Friendship is a Funny Thing
by paperback10
Summary: When Chuck declares war on Blair, it suddenly strikes her that he will never change. To her surprise, Dan Humphrey shows up in her life and helps her mend the broken pieces. Takes after 4x06. Epilogue up!
1. Chapter 1

_I'm completely new to this, so please bear with me! Reviews and feedback are always appreciated!_

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It was clear that there was something quite startling in the manner he addressed her. In fact, it was as if a bucket of ice-cold water had spilled all over her perfectly made demeanor. His eyes had shortly found hers looking shamefully at the ground. It was at that exact moment when he knew he had broken her; and all he wanted to do was bask in the euphoric feeling of victory that was spreading throughout his bones.

"Are you happy?" She grudgingly said; her eyes still glued to the ground.

No, no, this was not how he had pictured it. He wanted Blair to look him straight in the eyes. He wanted her to see the smug look on his face, the very look that she had initially coveted on herself. He could practically feel the fury—that voracious need to take what he deserved—emanating from his body. Thus, he instinctively lifted her chin with his shaking fingers, slightly surprised at how warm her skin was. Her gaze had finally locked with his, but all he saw in her deep brown eyes was indifference, the most deplorable thing in the world. He wanted more. He _needed_ more. This was supposed to be his moment, and she was failing to act out her part, the very part he had written in his dreams.

"You win," she said with the slightest trace of disappointment etched in her tone.

A chill ran down his spine. She pulled away from his gaze, and he knew this was her cue to look away before the tears dribbled down. It ached him how he knew her so well, even after everything that had transpired between them. The quiver in her lips, the furrowing in her brow, and the faintest shade of pink spreading across her pale cheeks; it was all so achingly familiar to him, and yet he found the strength to hold his ground.

"You brought this on yourself, Blair" he said spitefully. "You knew the consequences." His nostrils flared at the memory of Eva walking away from him. "You knew she was my last chance at happiness and you couldn't even bear to see me happy-"

"Yes, _your _happiness, Chuck, because everything always has to revolve around you, doesn't it?" She interjected angrily.

"Tell me, when you slept with Jenny Humphrey, were you thinking of my happiness?" His throat suddenly grew tight. "And when you sold me for your hotel, did my happiness at any point come into account?" The tears had finally escaped from her eyes and it was clear her breath was growing scarce.

"You never think about anyone else other than yourself, Chuck," she said softly as her gaze slowly found the blonde figure from across the room. Jenny Humphrey, the girl in question, was deep in conversation with her brother Dan. The events that had just occurred clearly took a toll on everyone in their circle.

"Is this what you wanted, Chuck? You brought her back just to humiliate me?"

"Don't turn this around on me! You—Eva—she's gone because of you!" He yelled, choking on his own words.

She looked back at him in disbelief, like something had finally triggered in her head.

"Fine. Blame me. I'm sorry that I've grown so resentful over the last couple of months. I'm sorry that I've-I've been silently fighting for you all summer, hoping you'd call or text or just try to reach me, but no; you met another woman to parade in front of me. Like everything that happened at the hospital wasn't enough. Like in typical Chuck Bass fashion, you just had to outdo yourself once more. So yes, blame me. Blame me all you want about Eva leaving. While you're at it, go ahead and screw Jenny Humphrey all you want as well, because I'm so…" She stepped back, trying to balance herself as her legs wobbled. "I'm so done, Chuck."


	2. Chapter 2

**Gossip Girl: Hi Upper East Siders. It seems Queen B has finally called it quits with the Big Bad Bass once and for all. But what could you expect? Her boyfriend did singlehandedly help Little J swipe her V-Card a couple of months ago. With Columbia officially annexed by C, where can our favorite Queen turn to now?**

"It's been two weeks, B," Serena announced, as she slid into Blair's plush bed to wrap her slim arms around her. "You know Dorota and I are concerned. You haven't even opened the box of Pierre Hermé macarons she got you."

Still in her sleeping mask, Blair protested, "I'm in mourning, Serena."

"_For your former life_?" Serena chimed in, a small grin forming across her lips. Blair finally removed her sleeping mask and faced her blonde best friend reluctantly. Serena flinched at how red and swollen her eyes were. She had readily assumed that Chuck and Blair were simply on a break from all their twisted games, hoping to garner more ammunition to challenge each other with in the following round.

However, as she took in the fragility of Blair's frame and the exhausted look on her face, she knew it was anything but a break. "Hey, B…"

"I know, I need my Dior concealer and quick," Blair joked, rolling her eyes for effect. She silently stood up and wrapped herself in her favorite silk robe, before going into her bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Serena bit her lip in worry. This was not good. Blair was at her most vulnerable again by evidently closing her self to world. Serena knew from experience that it would take something larger than a box of macarons to pull her out of this state. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Dan Humphrey's number.

"Hey, Dan. It's me."

"Serena, hey. Uhh…Ben's not here right now," Dan answered, as he quickly glanced at the screen of his cell phone to check if it really was her he was talking to.

"I wanted to talk to you actually, if that's alright."

Prickles of sweat suddenly formed in the creases of his eyebrows. "Absolutely. What's up?"

"You're still doing that W internship, right?"

"Yeah, I've been here a couple of weeks now. Thank Lily for me again, will you?"

"For sure, but I was actually hoping if you could put in a good word for Blair…" Serena said cautiously.

"Blair Waldorf? The one who banned my sister from the city and ruined her big Tim Gunn interview? Right, no thanks. It was bad enough having to put up with her at NYU and not to forget, _all_ of high school, so if you think I'd help her in any way, you've sadly been misled."

Serena rolled her eyes and sighed. "Dan, she needs the distraction. I know she's not the best person in the world, but believe it or not, she has a heart. And she's my best friend."

"Distraction from what? Did Bendel's finally run out of purses?"

"From Chuck, Dan. You saw the Gossip Girl blast; she hasn't been to school since Chuck took over Columbia. His latest stunt involved ruining all her internship opportunities, so she has literally nothing to fall onto right now."

Dan let out a heavy sigh, a clear indication that he was about to give in. He knew he could never say "no" to Serena, especially when his heart could beat that fast just at the sound of her voice. "I'll see what I can do," he said reluctantly. "But get Lily to pull some more of her society strings."

Serena giggled in relief on the other side of the phone. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She said, showing every sign of gratitude her bubbly self could muster.

Before putting down the phone, Dan tried to suppress the overwhelming surge of happiness building in his body. It was so simple; he loved Serena. Despite all the hurdles that came their way, from Nate to Colin and now, Ben, Dan knew it in his heart that they'd find each other once again, even if it meant having to endure Blair Waldorf's wrath one last time.

Blair stared at herself in the mirror. The lines under her eyes were more visible than they were yesterday. Her hair was limp and her complexion, even paler than normal. She closed her eyes and took a huge breath. _Another day, _she thought to herself. It had been two weeks since she had last seen Chuck, yet the memory of his accusations still remained painfully intact. She realized that for the first time in her life, she no longer wanted to play this game with him. She was exhausted and her heart, beyond repair.

Blair silently undressed before finally making it to the shower. She stood there despondently, not wanting to move or think. Before she knew it, she began sobbing uncontrollably. Her shoulders shook, as her legs finally gave in and she found herself crouching on the floor of her shower, sobbing loudly. It was only when she finally looked up that she realized Serena was standing right in front of her with that indescribable mix of sympathy and concern spread across her face.

"B…" Serena whispered, before instantly enveloping her. After weeks of silence, Blair was finally opening up to her and all Serena wanted was to be the one to hold her tight.

"It hurts s-so much," Blair cried into Serena's long blonde hair. "I hate how he can still hurt me, after everything that happened. I'm so…so pathetic."

Serena finally pulled away to look Blair in the eye. "You are not pathetic, Blair. You are the strongest person I know and you will get through this. _We_ will get through this."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the reviews! The next two chapters have more to do with Dan and Blair, but keep in mind that this is and will always be a Chuck & Blair fic!_

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A couple of days had passed since her fateful conversation with Serena. _Another day_, she said to herself, except this time, she was smiling. Her classes at Columbia were not as unbearable as she had assumed, mainly due to the fact that Chuck dropped out of school a week ago on the premise that he had a business to run. She couldn't help but think that this was his way of waving his white flag at her. Her throat still grew tight at the sound of his name, but she knew she was healing and for now, that was enough.

After having drinks with Nate and Serena at Kellari, another trip they insisted on taking her to in hopes of checking up on her, Blair finally made it home only to find Dan Humphrey standing in her foyer.

"What are you doing here, Humphrey?" She said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the brunette figure in front of her.

"I'm here for you actually," he answered, staring back at her pointedly.

"Oh, lucky me," she said, making her sarcasm all the more evident.

Dan's patience finally grew thin. "Look, Blair, try to put aside all the squabbles you have with my family for a sec, and just hear me out, OK?"

Blair nodded bitterly. "Fine, Humphrey, what do you want?"

"I need your help. Actually, W Magazine needs your help."

Blair's eyes instantly lit up at the mention of one of her favorite publications.

"I have to do a piece on Bergdorf's new corporate vise president, and frankly, I have no idea where to start."

She rolled her eyes, as if this was the most obvious piece of information he had ever given here. "Of course, you have no idea. You're from Brooklyn."

"Look, do you want in or not?" Dan said between gritted teeth.

"I guess I do owe you…" Blair said hesitantly, as her eyes fell to the ground. "For what happened with…you know."

Dan looked at her in surprise. He didn't think Blair Waldorf was capable of human emotion, much less remorse. "Jenny's…happier now, you know," he finally said, studying the sad expression on Blair's pale face. "And…" he couldn't believe he was about to say this, "I forgive you, Blair."

She finally looked up at him, disbelief written across her face. "But why?" She asked incredulously.

He paused for a second, trying to summon the right words. "Because, at the end of the day, it was you who ended up hurting the most," he said quietly, holding her gaze with every ounce of sincerity he could convene. Blair's throat suddenly grew tight, but she nevertheless found the strength to nod her head. Still trying to process the unlikely exchange of words he just had with Blair Waldorf, Dan cleared his throat in hopes of changing the course of their conversation.

"So I should probably introduce you to Epperley and the W staff first, but consider yourself hired, Blair. What are you doing today?"

Blair's expression quickly changed, as she locked eyes with Dan. He had to step back for a second, because it frightened him how quickly she had switched from vulnerable to utterly in-control, a side of Blair that he hadn't seen in a long time. "Well, _I'm_ setting up an appointment with Adrienne Gold today, and you, Humphrey, are coming with me."

"Adrienne, who?" Dan said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"The new corporate vise president of Bergdorf Goodman," Blair said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, right."

Blair rolled her eyes wearily. "I'm surprised they haven't fired you yet."

"Hey, I make a good cup of coffee!" Dan said defensively.

She shook her head and smirked. "Look, before we leave, you do know that you'll have to change your shirt, right? I assume one of the biggest retailers in the world would have a strict policy against flannel." Dan was about to open his mouth in protest, when Blair studied his clothes once more and added, "And those hideous jeans of yours—where did you even find such a pair?"

"They were my dad's," he said, glancing below his waist in confusion.

"From the 90s? Oh God, Humphrey. We're going shopping."

**Spotted: Queen B and Lonely Boy roaming Fifth Avenue, Dior Homme and Bottega shopping bags in tow. A little much, don't you think, D? We all know S prefers ex-cons now, so maybe trade in the Bottegas and stick to your Brooklynite, working-class roots. XOXO, **_**Gossip Girl**_**.**

Dan's eyes flashed angrily at the screen of his cell phone. Gossip Girl really knew which buttons to push. He simply couldn't fathom why people would be interested in knowing that he and Blair were shopping in the first place. Surely, there were more controversial topics to discuss. Dan let out a sigh and told himself to calm down. His patience was withering by the second, because Blair insisted they visit every store in the city. _Serena owes me big-time_, he thought, as he grudgingly tried on the wool, navy Z Zegna sports blazer Blair threw in his direction, before pushing him into a dressing room against his will. Dan let out an exasperated sigh until finally stepping outside.

"Verdict?" He muttered, trying to make his foul mood more apparent.

Blair looked up at him and a small smile of content spread across her lips. "Not bad, Humphrey."

He narrowed his eyes at her before turning around to see his reflection on the mirror. Standing before him was a man Dan only ever recognized in very few occasions. He saw this man during Cotillion and another time during Lily and Bart's wedding. Other than those occasions, Dan managed to attend several society parties moderately unscathed in his trustworthy J. Crew suit, which Blair had apparently had enough of.

"You know, to be perfectly honest, that jacket kind of makes up for your tacky jeans," Blair said, as she edged closer to smoothen the edges of his blazer.

A smirk escaped from his lips. "So have we reached a unanimous decision then, Judge Judy?" Dan asked mockingly, avoiding Blair's icy glare.

"Don't we have a meeting to get to anyway?" He asked, still staring appreciatively at the mirror.

Blair sighed nonchalantly, ignoring him, as she folded the items he discarded. "We don't actually," she finally said.

Dan looked back at her in disbelief. "Blair! I have a deadline. _We _have a deadline. If we don't get that interview, we're both fired." Blair simply rolled her eyes.

"Look, Adrienne Gold's assistant may have refused to schedule an appointment for us, but I've done enough snooping of my own to know where he goes for his Afternoon Tea," she said proudly.

Dan suddenly grew incredibly agitated, which was evident in the way his voice shook when he spoke to her. "Blair, please tell me that I didn't just spend hours on end shopping for clothes for a meeting that doesn't even exist!" His blood was boiling at this point and even the stares from nearby customers weren't enough to make him lower his voice.

"Will you just quiet down! You think scheduling an appointment with an executive head honcho is easy? If the hired staff at W can't even get a couple of minutes with the guy, then what more with us, interns? This is clearly a test to see if we actually have what it to takes to work for the magazine. So if I were you, I'd shut my mouth and listen to someone who actually knows what she's doing." Dan blinked back at her in complete awe, which she gladly took as a sign to continue. "Russian Tea Room. 3 o-clock. We have approximately half an hour to get there, so pay for the blazer and meet me outside. Can you at least handle that, Cabbage Patch?"

Dan tried to stifle a laugh. _Serena _does_ owe me big-time_.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence coursing through his veins. There was just something about entering one of the oldest and most elaborate restaurants in New York, dressed in a ridiculously expensive outfit, standing next to someone like Blair Waldorf, a person whose looks and grace alone demanded attention, that made Dan feel completely at ease. He realized that for the first time since stepping foot into the Upper East Side, he finally felt accepted; and he had Blair Waldorf of all people to thank for that.

Dan quickly shook his thoughts away when he felt Blair tugging at his sleeve. He quickly followed her gaze and realized that she was staring at Adrienne Gold's solitary figure at the corner end of the room. The pair locked eyes for a second, smirking mischievously, before sauntering towards his table.

"Adrienne Gold, pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Blair Waldorf." Blair said as she extended her hand professionally, while the rest of her body forcibly wriggled into the empty seat next to his.

Adrienne's mouth fell slightly in confusion, until the recognition dawned on him. "Waldorf? You're Eleanor Waldorf's daughter?"

"Yes, I am Eleanor Waldorf's daughter," Blair said confidently. Adrienne's expression quickly softened, as he took her hand into his. Dan took this as a cue to sit next to Blair, whose outright audacity made the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Ah, nice to meet you, Blair. You know, her new collection's doing really well for us at Bergdorf's. Say hello to your mother for me, yes?"

"Of course, Bergdorf's has always been her favorite retailer," Blair said instantly, knowing full well of what she was doing. Adrienne looked pleased.

"Anyway, this is my associate, Daniel Humphrey. He and I are here in behalf of W magazine to interview you regarding your new position in the company."

Adrienne looked from Blair to Dan suspiciously, suddenly realizing that there was more to this abrupt introduction than he would have liked. He sighed heavily and took a sip from his red wine. "Look, Blair. I'd love to do this interview with you, but the Board advises I keep things under wrap first. I'll have my assistant fax you the company's official statement as soon as possible, yes?"

Thinking he had won, Adrienne did a slight wave with his hand to signal the conversation was over, but Blair didn't budge. Dan nervously glanced over at Blair, whose polite smile was still frighteningly intact.

He was about to stand up and pull her away, when she opened her mouth to speak. "Mr. Gold, I understand that, having just been sworn into the company, you aren't that familiar with the history behind Waldorf Designs and Bergdorf's yet, am I right?"

"Excuse me?" Adrienne asked curtly.

Blair continued, not letting his rudeness faze her. "When my mother finally grew tired of styling society matrons and Wall Street bankers, she decided to build her own fashion house, one that could exude the grace and opulence that New York was so hungry for at the time. Guess which retailer was first to pick up her collection?"

"Bergdorf's," Adrienne muttered grudgingly.

"Correct. And do you know how they managed to forge such a relationship?" Blair asked, her eyes growing fiery by the second.

"Well, your mother's designs are obviously impeccable."

"_Everyone's_ designs are impeccable, Mr. Gold. Dan, over here, has a sister who can whip out a wrinkle-free satin dress in a second, and she's from _Brooklyn_!" Dan quickly bit his tongue, convincing himself that this wasn't the right time to make a retort.

"What really impressed the people at Bergdorf's, however," Blair continued, "Was my mother's undying determination to catch their attention. She went to literally every society party that year, every fashion show in New York, Paris, and Milan, just to be given the same sympathetic speech of rejection. It was only when she sent her best sketches to every office in your building—all 332, I believe—that Bergdorf Goodman finally decided to give her a chance."

Dan and Adrienne stared back at the brunette in complete disbelief; and it was at that exact moment when Blair realized she had the upper hand.

"Thus, if my mother's unrelenting passion to get what she wanted has taught us anything, it's that Waldorf women simply do not give up. So Mr. Gold, either we have this interview right now, or Dan and I can just continue to bother you until you finally get the picture. We both know that, at the end of the day, I _will_ do whatever it takes to get my way," Blair said triumphantly.

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"Blair, you were brilliant! Just brilliant! If Adrienne Gold and the rest of the Upper East Side weren't in that room, I would've been jumping like a complete freak and throwing tea pots across the room!"

Blair could not stop the huge grin from spreading across her lips. "Well, I _am_ Blair Waldorf after all," she said, as she held her chin up elatedly. Not only did her perfectly concocted speech at the Russian Tea Room leave Adrienne Gold completely dumbfounded; it also gave Dan and Blair enough dirt to write their W feature with.

"True, but the Blair Waldorf I knew mainly used her skills for scheming and berating girls who wore tights as pants."

"That was a service to mankind, _thank you very much_."

Without thinking, Dan reached out and pulled Blair into his arms. She stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry that wasn't—" Dan pulled away instantly, feeling incredibly mortified.

Blair just stared back at him, mouth slightly agape and painfully lost for words.

"I forgot, you hadn't gotten your tetanus shot yet," Dan said nervously to lighten up the mood, which was rapidly becoming more awkward by the second.

"No, it's…OK," Blair heard herself saying. Dan looked up at her, surprised she hadn't called her lawyer for a restraining order yet. "Thanks for the hug. I—I just haven't been hugged by a guy since…well, you know," she said softly, staring straight at the ground and letting her brown curls shield her face.

Perhaps it was the faint edge in her tone or the fact the she was finally revealing a vulnerable and beguilingly human side to her that he never knew existed, but something had ultimately triggered in Dan's head. Before he knew it, he was edging closer to her and wrapping his arms around her small waist, showing no sign of letting go. He buried his face in her hair, hoping she wouldn't hear the rapid beating in his heart, and let his hands brush against the silky fabric of her dress, which was so soft and warm and delicate—all words that were rarely ever used to describe Blair Waldorf—that it rendered him utterly speechless.

Blair let her flushed cheek rest against the curve of his neck, surprised at how well her body fit into his. He smelled like coffee and shampoo, she thought to herself and smiled. She instinctively closed her eyes and let his arms tighten around her, grateful that his solid frame was holding her in place, as she feared her body was near collapse. This whole turn of events was so unsettling that she couldn't wrap her head around it yet. For now, all she wanted was to breathe in his scent and feel the slight stubble of his jaw graze her neck.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the delay! But I hope you enjoy this chapter! For some reason, every time I try to narrate using Chuck's point-of-view, it always turns out a little darker than expected. Tell me what you think!_

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_Another day_, he thought to himself, as he stared listlessly at the ceiling of his bedroom. He remembered a time when he used to love the dark walls of his suite and the mystery they exuded. He even liked the cunning lack of furniture in his apartment; it gave the impression that his life wasn't complicated, when, in fact, it was and has always been the complete opposite.

His interior designer called it minimalist, but Chuck knew that it was more than just that; it was a direct representation of his character. It was dark and empty and purposely uninviting, which was why Chuck was so immediately drawn to it.

However, as he glanced at his surroundings now, he could no longer seek that same comfort. They just reminded him of who he was, when he so achingly longed to be someone else, even for just a second.

He hated Chuck Bass. He hated the person inside of him. He hated the things he was capable of and all the pain he could so easily inflict on the people around him—if there were any left.

He chuckled darkly to himself. First, Blair and now, his company—the one piece of Bart that still remained. What was supposed to be a legacy was quickly turning into a dreadful joke that Chuck was sure his father left for him just to spite him one last time. He could practically hear Bart's scornful laugh echoing throughout his suite—the suite that had previously been so sacred to him; the suite that he had shared with Blair, the only person who understood its purpose just as much as he did.

But now, it was just an empty room to him. It was empty of the woman he loved and certainly, of the person he was supposed to be. He just wished it would all go away.

Chuck's thoughts were momentarily interrupted when he heard the elevator to his apartment sound. His heart skipped a beat, when he heard the click-clack sound that only a pair of women's heels could produce. _Blair_, he instantly thought, before scrambling from his bed to peer outside.

"Hey," Raina said with a suggestive glint in her eyes. Chuck's face immediately fell, and he couldn't decide whether to have her forcibly thrown out of his hotel or to physically break her into two right then and there.

"I don't know how much clearer I have to be in order for you and your father to finally understand. I don't want you or your filthy Thorpe money anywhere near my hotel and certainly, not near my company," Chuck snarled.

Much to his surprise, Raina remained perfectly calm.

"I'm actually not here to talk business," she said, flicking her long, dark hair away from her face.

"Then, why are you here?" Chuck spat out icily, growing increasingly impatient by the second.

"For a drink, of course."

Before Chuck could stop her, Raina swiftly moved towards the direction of his bar, already pulling out two glasses.

"Scotch on the rocks?" She asked, completely oblivious to his piercing glare.

"Fine," he finally said, before slumping onto one of his couches.

If he was going to have to talk to his rival, he might as well have a glass of scotch to calm him down. She handed him his glass, deliberately letting her long, bare legs brush against his knee. His eyes followed her every move as she sat not too far from him, giving them just enough space for him to smell her spicy and alluring perfume.

"Un Jardin Après Le Mousson?" He asked in perfect French, keeping his steady gaze at her. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Hermés. Your perfume," he drawled.

"Yes, how can you tell?" She asked, amazed that he could easily recognize her scent.

"Blair hated that perfume," Chuck said nonchalantly, suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. He could almost smell the powdery scent of Blair's Chanel No.5.

Raina shot him an indignant look. "Well, she clearly has bad taste, then."

Chuck's eyes instantly inflamed. "Get out."

Raina looked back at him nervously, aware that she had hit some type of nerve.

"I-I…"

Chuck grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Get. Out." He growled harshly against her ear.

Before he could say anything further, Raina clasped her hands around his neck and aggressively thrust her mouth into his.

His grip on her wrist instantly loosened in surprise, as her tongue dug deeper into his mouth. He was about to fumble with the buttons on her blouse, when it dawned on him that she tasted nothing like Blair, that she smelled nothing like her, and _was_ nothing like her. Her skin suddenly felt too hot against him and her hair, too prickly.

Consumed by an overwhelming surge of guilt, he quickly pushed her off of him, starring daggers at the pair of swollen lips that had nearly pushed him over the edge just then.

"You want my company that much?" He spat out, unaware that tears were brimming in his eyes.

"Just…please, get out," he said weakly, no longer facing her.

Utterly humiliated, she quickly got up and grabbed her things before striding away.

Chuck guzzled down the rest of his scotch, hoping it would wash away the taste of Raina's mouth. He could still smell the scent of her perfume wafting in the air and suddenly just the mere thought of her presence made him nauseous.

_When did things get so fucked up_, Chuck thought to himself.

He could almost hear Blair's voice—that finality in her tone when she said she was done. Ever since that night, her words had been etched in his head for him to play over and over again.

It took him two years to tell Blair he loved her—two long arduous years of saying all the wrong things and hurting one other. Looking back at it, he wouldn't have done it any other way, Chuck thought fondly. Saying those three words and eight letters was the hardest thing Chuck ever had to do, because it meant having to give in to something he had no real control over.

Staring into Blair's eyes was like staring into his future, something he had never thought about before; and that's precisely what terrified him. He couldn't understand how one person could bring that much out of him.

Chuck blinked back the tears in his eyes, not allowing himself to look any more pathetic than he already did. He staggered towards his bar, reaching for the same bottle of scotch Raina had opened, and gulped down a generous amount.

He had always found some pleasure in the way it burned his throat—it made him _feel_ something when the rest of his body was numb.

More importantly, it let him escape reality, even for just a little bit. It made thinking about Blair much less painful, and the mental images of her tear-stricken face, more bearable.

She had every right to say what she said, Chuck thought more solemnly. He, alone, ruined their relationship in more ways than one, thinking that they could somehow move past all the betrayal and deceit simply because they were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

But no, he knew he had outdone himself this time. _In typical Chuck Bass fashion_, Chuck thought with a pained expression on his face.

He just missed her so much—so much that even a single whiff of a foreign scent could instantly bring her back to his thoughts; so much that even the feel of someone's else's skin against his could so easily make him ache for her.

Chuck realized then and there that what he truly longed for was Blair—not a new identity, not a new woman on his arm, but Blair, pure and simple; and he was willing to do anything to get her back into his life.

Chuck's eyes lit up in alarm when he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand. He walked unsteadily towards his bedroom, trying to balance himself despite his intoxicated state.

He was already sure it would be a message from the office, probably from one of the board members in need of a signature or asking to do lunch.

But as he glanced at the message, Chuck suddenly felt all the color drain from his face.

**Gossip Girl: Well, well, look what we have here! It appears D and B didn't get the memo about public displays of affection! This just proves that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. XOXO, **_**Gossip Girl**_**.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey! Super sorry for the long wait! I just came back from Spring Break, and stupidly assumed that I had already published this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I, for one, felt a little iffy when I read over this chapter again, so tell me how it goes!_

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"If you take one more thing, you're going to break," Dan said with an amused glint in his eye.

"Wrong again, Humphrey. Waldorf's don't break. We excel in everything, even if it means having to lose an arm!" Blair said exasperatingly, as she balanced four Giuseppe Zanotti shoeboxes on one arm and a heavy stack of documents on another. "At least let me help you, " Dan said as he seized the shoeboxes from her grasp and ignored her stubborn glare.

"Fine, but Epperley's looking for you."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, someone misspelled 'Balenciaga' on the W blog again?"

"Close," Blair said, letting a smirk spread across her lips.

"Ahh…it definitely has to be 'Olivier Theyskens,' then. His name always did confuse me."

Blair laughed. "Leave it to Brooklyn to mix up high fashion terminology. But no, they misspelled _your_ name in the blog, actually," Blair said in amusement.  
"So unless you want to be called _Don _for the rest of your internship, I'd talk to Epperley_,_" Blair said teasingly, as she unloaded the documents on one of the contributor's desks.

"'_Don Humphrey_,' huh? Glad to know they appreciate my work here," Dan mused with a sarcastic grin on his face, before taking off to find their supervisor.

Blair had been interning at W for a week now. Though she had never really forsaken the idea of pursuing a career in fashion, mostly due to her mother's insistence, she was ultimately surprised at how easy everything came to her while interning at W Magazine.

Growing up, she simply assumed that her eagerness to get her hands on new issues of Vogue and Vanity Fair way before the printing release date was a minor interest on her part.

Little did she know that it would only take seven days at a major publication for her to realize that her attachment to fashion was more than just mere interest; it was her creative outlet, her calling in life.

And she had Dan Humphrey of all people to thank for that. If Dan had not shown up at her apartment a week ago, she might have still been wallowing in self-pity, under heaps of Columbia readings and assignments, relying purely on Serena and Dorota for moral support.

However, she now found herself capable of standing on her own two feet, a state of mind that she had been pining for ever since that fateful night at the hospital with Chuck.

Blair quickly shook away her thoughts, forbidding herself from thinking about him. She hated how weak and vulnerable she had become, so she reminded herself time and again that she was Blair Waldorf, and it would take more than just Chuck Bass to destroy her.

Blair felt her Blackberry vibrate in her pocket, suddenly grateful for the distraction. She picked it up and placed it against her ear.

"BLAIR!" Serena screamed on the other end of the phone, making Blair jump.

"What? Are you OK? Are you hurt?" Blair asked in alarm, suddenly anticipating the worst.

"I am _perfect_, actually. You know what's _not_ perfect? You and Dan! My ex-boyfriend! Dating! Like a couple! ON GOSSIP GIRL!" Serena rambled hysterically.

Blair's mouth fell slightly agape, even though a part of her albeit small had been expecting this conversation for a week now.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Well, Gossip Girl _does_ have a knack of being right when it comes to these things! I swear, Ben and I are gone for _one_ week and then YOU and DAN just hook up like—"

"S, I am not in a relationship with Humphrey!" Blair said quickly. "If I were, hell would be frozen by now."

"So you guys just _happened_ to hug passionately on a sidewalk one day? In daylight?" Serena asked in disbelief.

"Please, you did that with him on a regular basis for two years!"

"Yes, when we were D-A-T-I-N-G! So you two are dating then, aren't you? Oh my God, this can't be happening! Do you know how weird this is?" Serena's voice cried out against the outward sound of honking cars and pedestrians.

"Weirder than dating your stepbrother, who, by the way, shares an actual sibling with you?" Blair retorted.

"BLAIR! Just tell me right now. Are you dating Dan Humphrey?"

"I am not dating Dan, Serena! That's gross! And not to mention, social suicide! No offense…"

"None taken. So what's with the Gossip Girl blast then? Why were you two even hugging?"

"We were celebrating, S! We got the Adrienne Gold interview. And I'm sorry if for one short moment I lost complete sense and hugged the guy," Blair replied dryly as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh," Serena said quietly, as the news finally settled in. "I'm sorry, B. It was just…so unsettling. And with Ben saying that you showed up at the loft last night to watch a movie with Dan, I just—I don't know. It's weird! You're Blair—you're my best friend and I love you!"

"And Dan's our friend, whom you decide to sporadically love from time to time," Blair shot back judgingly.

"It's not like that, B…" Serena trailed off, suddenly feeling the urge to bite her lip. She shook her head and sighed, "Anyway, I'm just relieved. What are you doing right now?"

Blair narrowed her eyes, but even she knew this was not the time and place to discuss where Serena and Dan currently stood.

She sighed and let her best friend change the subject. "Sorting through reject-garments. You should see all the last-season stuff they have lying around in their closet, S."

Serena giggled on the other side of the phone. "Well, that's why they have _you_. They're clearly in need of a good eye."

"_Comme ci, comme ça. _Wanna have lunch today?" Blair drawled.

"YES. I haven't seen my best friend in what feels like years—of course, I want to have lunch with you today! I'm thinking spicy tuna rolls at Geisha? Unless you want to go to the Waverley for, like, the hundredth time?"

"Actually, Humphrey's treating. He thinks I haven't _lived_ since I haven't tried this sandwich with…pork…and cheese…or something like that. Regardless, we're going to Café Habana," Blair said casually, as she organized row after row of garment bags.

"You want to have lunch with Dan?" Serena asked slowly.

"Well, he _is_ treating. Bear in mind that this isn't exactly lunch at the Ritz, but he's from Brooklyn and he owes me for saving his ass last week."

"This is SO weird," Serena blurted out.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Dan! Eating pork sandwiches! Together! I don't even know which scenario sounds more implausible!" Serena exclaimed, her voice suddenly rising.

"Hey, you always wanted us to get along!" Blair said defensively.

"I know, I know," Serena groaned, as she closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine, OK. Let's have lunch together. You, me, and my quasi-stepbrother/ex-lover and _your_ glorified new BFF!" Serena exclaimed teasingly before putting the phone down.

Blair smirked, before whipping out her cell phone once more to text Dan.

_**Lunch at the Café, right? S is coming.**_

She was not particularly fond of watching Dan being swept away by her best friend's charm, but Blair rarely ever got to see Serena lately, and she couldn't think of better people to spend the day with.

Her phone buzzed and she instantly knew it was Dan.

_**Great. C u in the closet in 10. –D**_

Blair sighed and lazily tied her brown curls in a bun. She had a number of things to do before her break, from organizing the outfits for tomorrow's shoot to confirming the guest list for next week's event at the Met.

She rested her back against the hard, solid, white wall of the W closet and closed her eyes for a moment.

She didn't even bother to lift her eyes, when she heard the closet doors swing open.

"Jesus, you're quick," She exclaimed lazily.

"Blair."

A chill instantly ran down Blair's spine, when she heard the familiar voice.

"What are you d-doing here?" She said in a shaky voice, as she staggered to get up.

Chuck was facing her now, with an earnest expression on his face.

It had been nearly a month of absolutely no contact with Chuck, but a part of her still melted at the sight of him.

Her eyes narrowed at the modest bouquet of peonies in his left hand; and Blair couldn't help but notice how his suit fit immaculately against his masculine frame, hitting her with what felt like Déjà vu.

"I had to see you," was all Chuck said, as he held her gaze solemnly.

And just like that, Blair suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked away from her lungs.


	7. Chapter 7

_Alright, there's lots of drama in this chapter-a not-so very conscious decision on my part! :) But I thought it ultimately flowed well, considering the build-up of emotion among the characters. So hopefully you lot enjoy it_!

* * *

Dan was wheeling over a cart filled with hangers, ready to call on Blair to have lunch, when he realized that one of the doors to the W closet was left slightly ajar. His curiosity peaked when he heard Blair's breathless voice emanating from within.

"You can't be in here, Chuck," She said with a notable tremor in her voice.

Dan's eyes dilated when he saw Chuck Bass facing her, peonies in hand, and remorse written all over his face.

"My company invests a lot in the magazine. We can have all the time we want," Chuck argued almost desperately.

"No, you don't get it, _I_ don't want you in here. Just please—"

"I'm sorry," Chuck blurted out quickly. Dan winced at the desperation in Chuck's voice.

It was so inconsistent with the cool and detached demeanor Dan was used to seeing Chuck with that he had to take a step closer to see if it really was Chuck Bass standing before him.

He couldn't see the expression on Blair's face, but the sight of her shoulders falling was enough for him to know that she was just as surprised as he was.

Dan watched closely as Chuck edged closer and passionately pulled Blair's hands into his.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for having…for having let you down, when all you've done was love and support me. Through so many fucking things. Christ, Blair, you were there when my father died, there when Bass Industries was first handed to me, there when Evelyn showed up, and you know what sounds crazy? You may not want to be here for me right now, but in my eyes you always are—it's because I can feel you, Blair. You never leave my thoughts. You're the voice in my head telling me to be a better person, but at the same time, forbidding me to ever change."

Chuck shook his head, like his words were finally settling in. "Because as fucking depressing as it sounds you were the first person who's ever truly loved me for who I am. You loved me more than my father did, and more than anyone ever will. And I know...I know that the things that I've done to you are far from being forgiven and you probably _will_ never forgive me for having done them—hell,_ I_ will never forgive myself for doing those things to you, but I—Blair. I'm rambling," He chuckled to himself in disbelief, "For the first time in all twenty years of my existence, I'm rambling. And it's for you. I'm just so…sorry. I honestly wish I could find the right words to tell you how much I need you back in my life…" Chuck's grip on her hands tightened, as his breath grew harsher.

"It's just that…I love you, Blair."

Blair stared back at him incredulously, releasing her hands from his so she should clutch unto her chest, which was rising and falling at a rapid pace.

It was only when Chuck's eyes followed the soft cascade of her tears that she realized she was crying.

He was about to reach out and wipe them away with his thumb, when she stepped back in alarm.

She was growing increasingly breathless and the look of hurt in Chuck's face was proving too much for her. "I-I…"

"I love you, Blair," Chuck whispered sadly once more.

"I can't, I'm—" Blair shook her head, holding her hands closer to her chest.

Chuck was about to edge even closer, when Dan found himself swiftly walking in, ignoring Chuck's incredulous glare, and firmly putting his hands on Blair's shoulders to stop them from shaking.

She looked up at Dan gratefully, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Brooklyn?" Chuck barked, his nostrils flaring at the sight before him.

"You OK?" Dan asked quietly, still facing Blair with a worried expression on his face.

Both men watched as she nodded weakly. It took her a moment to speak again, as she was so clearly lost for words, but she somehow found the strength to tilt her head as if to signal she wasn't done.

"I'm alright. Thanks. I—Chuck," Blair hesitantly turned towards the brunette figure in front of her, studying the look of anger and despair on his face.

"You should…go. Dan and I have work to do," Blair said quietly, quickly averting her eyes away, so she wouldn't witness the crushing look on Chuck's face.

She felt sick to her stomach, ready to faint, but she found solace in Dan's firm grip on her shoulders.

The tension in the room had shortly grown even more palpable and, for a second, Dan was certain that Chuck would hurl himself at him.

He was already planting his feet firmly on the ground, anticipating Chuck's violent reaction, when he finally glanced over at Chuck.

Dan suddenly felt a foreign pang in his chest, when he saw just how defeated Chuck looked.

He may have never been fond of the guy, but he knew exactly how Chuck was feeling—that rejection, that emotional blow to the guts, that subsequent feeling of emptiness.

Dan realized then and there that he finally found something in common with Chuck Bass, a revelation he never knew he'd make.

It was noticeable to everyone in the room, even to Blair, whose face was purposely tilted the other way, that a dark shadow had fallen across Chuck's face.

He shortly mumbled something incomprehensible, before thrusting the flowers at Blair.

Chuck knew she wouldn't take them, but he could at least try.

Her lingering lack of movement pained every bone in his body, but he found fleeting comfort when she finally turned to look at the peonies in front of her.

Blair's eyes were glued to the peonies on his hand; they were pink, just the way she liked it; lively and energetic, like she always longed to be; but she still showed no sign of accepting them.

More tears were spilling from her eyes, as the mere thought of meeting Chuck's miserable expression filled her with emotion.

The two stayed in that position for a couple more minutes, until Dan found himself hesitantly accepting the peonies on Blair's behalf, fully aware of how rigid her back had become.

Without saying anything further, Chuck finally left, brusquely swinging the closet doors behind him.

Dan was about to let out a sigh of relief, when he felt Blair's small frame instantly enclose against his.

He could feel the wetness of her tears seeping through his shirt, but Dan didn't care.

He simply encircled his arms around her and whispered soothing words into her ear, telling her that everything was going to be OK.

"Thank you…Dan," Blair breathed out weakly.

Dan felt her hot breath against his shirt. He let a small smile escape from his lips, almost expecting her to finally look up at him and scrunch her face in confusion.

"You know…that's the first time you've ever addressed me by my first name," Dan mumbled lightly, his expression quickly softening.

He felt Blair smile against his chest. "I guess, it was about time."

Dan gently buried his face in her hair. "If you want to talk, I'm here—"

Blair instantly pulled away, shaking her head feverishly. "No, I'm fine."

Dan could sense that her walls were coming up again, but he simply softened his expression and held her chin in place with his hand.

"Talk to me," he said quietly, as their eyes locked under the dim light of the closet.

"I'm fine," she repeated stubbornly, wiping away the remaining tears in her eyes. She quickly swatted his hand away and turned on her heel, only to realize that his other hand was still gripping her elbow.

"Let me go," she spat out, her eyes growing venomous by the second.

"Not until you talk to me, Blair. I know what you're feeling," Dan said with an earnest expression on his face.

He was about to let his other hand rest on her other elbow, when Blair violently shook away from his grip.

"We have absolutely nothing in common, Humphrey. Stop flattering yourself into thinking that you know what I'm feeling," Blair exploded, letting her brown curls bounce against her trembling shoulders.

"Blair, I'm only trying to help—"

"Why would I seek help from _you_? You can't even get your own life together!" Blair exclaimed, as her eyes widened in anger.  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Dan spat out, suddenly tired of trying to hold her in place.

"You know exactly what it means! You just let Serena prance all over you and you stand there like the pathetic idiot that you are, letting her humiliate you with boyfriend after boyfriend—it's so pathetic, Dan! And I refuse to stoop to your level! I refuse to believe that we at some point walked in the same shoes, so don't you dare, even for a second, say you know how I feel, when you're too mesmerized by Serena to realize just how pathetic you are!" Blair shouted, as she swung her fists against his hard chest.

Dan let his mouth hang open for a second, but soon his eyes had dilated and he let himself get lost in the all-consuming fury boiling in his blood.

"Oh, really? I'm pathetic? You know what's pathetic, Blair? You trying to pretend that you aren't hurt, when it's so fucking obvious how broken you are! I may be stupid for waiting for Serena, but at least I don't cower away from what I feel! I don't back down and build a sick, little bubble to escape to! That's what's fucking pathetic, Blair! _You're_ fucking pathetic!"

Blair stood there completely mystified. She was so taken aback; for a moment, Dan thought she had lost her voice. He could still feel his pulse racing, but the slight quiver in her lips instantly made him soften.

"Blair, I'm sorry—"

"Leave me alone," She spat out icily, before swiftly walking away from him.

"I'm sorry," Dan said quietly to himself, hoping for a short moment that she heard.


	8. Chapter 8

_Jamieerin: Hi, thanks for your review! To answer your question, the reason why Chuck visited Blair at work was because he still clearly had feelings for her. And you're right; the Gossip Girl blast helped give him that push too! Yes, he was mad at her for making Eva leave and yes, he may have manifested that anger by both taking over Columbia and bringing Jenny back to New York, but it was ultimately her whole speech at the beginning that really opened his eyes. So I hope that clarifies things for you!_

_And just on a general note: I personally like where the show is going with Blair and Dan's relationship, but I intend on keeping them solely as friends in this fic! Putting that aside, I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_

* * *

_

**Spotted: S and her current flame swapping spit in Café Habana. Word has it that D and B are to make an appearance as well. We all know that a forced double date is awkward as it is, but something tells me that these four will bring awkward to a whole new level. XOXO **_**Gossip Girl**_

After reading the latest Gossip Girl blast, Dan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. It was bad enough having Blair rip apart his self-esteem earlier that day, but enduring a whole lunch with Ben and Serena was something he knew he could not stomach.

He was just about to bolt out of the restaurant, when Serena locked eyes with him from across the room.

"Dan! Hey!" Serena greeted, walking towards him to pull him into a hug.

Dan was momentarily caught off guard when the familiar scent of her shampoo suddenly pervaded the air.

He swore Serena felt the same thrill that ran down his spine, as both lingered in that position, each refusing to be the first to pull away.

It was only when Ben let out a nervous cough that Serena finally peeled herself off of Dan.

"You…um, don't mind if I brought Ben, right?" Serena asked quietly.

"No, 'course not," Dan replied quickly, as he gave Ben a brusque wave. "Ben, nice to see you…for, what is it? The tenth time today?"

"I'm going to say eleventh," Ben said warmly, as he got up to pat his roommate on the back.

"So where's Blair?" Serena finally asked.

"She's not coming," Dan answered bluntly, before grumpily taking an empty seat.

"Why? I just spoke to her this morning," Serena said in disbelief. "How is she? Is she OK?"

"Blair is…Blair," Dan muttered tersely.

"Right…" Serena said slowly as both she and Ben exchanged nervous looks.

Lunch had not turned out as delightful as either Serena or Dan expected. While Serena felt uncomfortable with the forced nature of their conversation, Dan, on the other hand, was busy trying to stop himself from hurling at the sight of Ben and Serena together.

He thought her early morning breakfasts with Ben at the loft would be the extent of his agony, but seeing them now in such close proximity made Dan feel almost invisible.

In fact, during the five long, torturous minutes Serena and Ben spent flirtatiously wiping sauce off each other's faces and swapping suggestive glances, Dan swore that they had completely forgotten about him. It was only when he cleared his throat that the blonde couple realized they had company.

"So…ugh…you guys like your food?" Dan asked, making a weak attempt at a conversation.

Having already grown weary of his disconcerting formality, Serena briefly sighed before doling out an answer.

"Yes, I do," she said, flashing a tight smile at Dan's direction.

Ben, on the other hand, nodded his head a little too enthusiastically—probably out of pity, Dan decided.

His hand was already reaching into his pocket to pay for lunch, when he felt a considerable chunk of his hair being tugged aggressively from behind. "Ow!"

"I can't believe you forgot to call me!" Blair's voice boomed, as her angry form slid into the seat next to Dan's.

All three looked back at Blair in disbelief, mouths hanging in unison.

"B?" Serena asked bewilderedly, being the first to break the silence.

Blair's indignant expression quickly softened, when she noticed her best friend sitting across from her.

"Hey S!" She greeted cheerfully, pulling Serena into one of their signature hugs.

"And Ben, hi! This must be the tenth time I'm seeing you today!"

"_Eleventh_, actually," Ben replied, passing a playful wink at Dan's direction.

"Ok, Blair, what on earth are you doing here?" Dan finally exclaimed.

"Well, as far as I know, you owe me a Cuban sandwich," Blair said in a deadpan voice, still refusing to face Dan.

He was about to grill her even further, when Blair motioned for the waiter.

"Hi, we'll have another round of mojitos and just a Cuban sandwich for me," She told the waiter, batting her eyelashes politely.

"Oh and he's paying," She said dryly, as she gestured towards Dan.

Dan gritted his teeth but nevertheless found the strength to flash a forced smile at the waiter, who, like Ben and Serena, was awkwardly looking from Blair to Dan in apprehensive silence.

When the waiter finally left, silence quickly ensued. Blair stifled a laugh as she surveyed each of their reactions. Serena was biting her lip, Ben was coughing nervously, and Dan was still staring at Blair in stunned silence.

However, it was only when her gaze fell on Ben's tightly draped arm on Serena's shoulder that an idea popped up in her head.

"So, how's W, you two?" Serena asked lightly, unsure of whom to look at exactly.

"Fabulous!" Blair replied instantly, before Dan could even open his mouth.

"In fact, spending time with Cabbage Patch over here hasn't been as unbearable as I thought it would be."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Blair," Dan muttered sarcastically.

Serena tried to stifle a laugh. She suddenly felt foolish for thinking that Dan and Blair were having some type of affair, when their body language alone was so obviously platonic, if not highly incompatible.

Unsatisfied with Serena's reaction, Blair noisily edged her seat closer to Dan and with both hands, she grasped his solitary grey tie.

Dan's body instantly tensed as Blair's small fingers interlaced with the thin fabric of his tie.

"Don't you just love how Humphrey's been dressing way better lately?" Blair mused, finally locking eyes with Dan, who was still staring back at her in disbelief.

"Like, look at his tie. It totally…" Blair bit her lip suggestively, "Brings his eyes out, don't you think?"

She didn't give either Ben or Serena enough time to answer, as she played with the knot on his neck, never tearing her fiery eyes away from him for even a second.

"B-Blair, you hate my clothes," Dan reminded her, as prickles of sweat slid down the curve of his neck.

"_Hated_. Past tense, Humphrey."

Dan was about to pull away completely, when he caught sight of Serena's expression.

She appeared to be seething with jealousy strewn all across her face. Her eyes were furiously narrowed at Blair, and Dan couldn't help but notice that Ben's arm had mysteriously disappeared from her shoulder.

However, it was only when Dan locked eyes with Blair that it finally dawned on him what she was up to.

He knew it was awful but he nevertheless took pleasure in the way Serena gritted her teeth.

For a second, he swore he saw Blair flash him a mischievous smile visible only to him.

She, in turn, took the instant softening of his eyes as confirmation, as she pushed her body a little closer to his and waited patiently for him to rack his brain for something appropriate to say.  
"Well, I guess you must've rubbed off on me then, Waldorf," Dan said as he reached out to rub Blair's bare shoulder affectionately.

"Blair!" Serena exclaimed, causing everyone to look back at her questioningly.

"I have to powder my nose. Come with?" She bit out, already digging her nails on Blair's arm.

Blair gave Dan a small wink before sauntering off with Serena.

* * *

"What the hell was that?"

"What the hell was what?" Blair asked innocently.

"You're not dating Dan, but you can't keep your hands off of him?"

"I'm _not_ dating Dan. And even if I were, why do you care?"

Serena quickly averted her eyes away from Blair. "B, I'm just looking out for you."

"That's a lie. We both know that your little interrogation scheme has plenty to do with your _unrequited love_ for Dan Humphrey.

"It's not like that—"

"Then what is it like, Serena? Because from what I can tell, it's either you still have feelings for Humphrey or you simply can't wrap your head around the idea that maybe, just _maybe_ he's actually moving on."

"Look, I-I…have to go," Serena stammered, already turning her back towards Blair.

"Of course, you do," Blair muttered to herself.

She didn't even bother to watch her best friend say a quick goodbye to a confused Dan, before pulling Ben out of the restaurant with her to leave.

Dan swirled around to see Blair approaching their table. His face was still scrunched up in confusion.

"What did you two talk about?"

Blair coolly slid into her seat, refusing to meet his gaze just yet.

"I just told Serena something that should've been said to her a long time ago."

"Right…"

"So I guess it's just us now, huh?" Dan said as he surveyed the empty table. "How's… the sandwich?"

With her eyes still glued to the table, Blair bit her lip as she tried to find the right words to say to him.

"Look, Dan…I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I don't think you're pathetic for waiting for Serena. It's actually…sweet."

When Blair finally summoned the courage to look up at him, every odd little knot in her stomach had suddenly come undone as Dan's face broke out into a warm smile.

"You know, you're not the only one who messed up here. If I recall I said some pretty nasty things to you too."

Blair shook her head. "No, I needed that. You're right. I have to stop pretending that everything is fine when it's not. I've had 20 years to do that. And ironically, the only other person who has ever called my bluff…was Chuck."

Blair's face instantly fell, as she tried to blink away her tears.

"Are you OK?"

"No," She said simply. "I thought I was, but…seeing him today—that was almost unbearable. Like all the weeks that had passed by since that night didn't exist, like he was still the same person who stood before me at the hospital. Maybe he has changed, maybe he really does mean what he said, but that doesn't change anything, does it? He can change all he wants, but he can't change the past."

Blair buried her face into her hands, letting her words sink in for the first time.  
"I'm just sorry that I snapped at you. I should've known that when it comes to exes, you'd have some great insight. There's a reason why they call you 'Lonely Boy' after all."

"And just like that the claws come back!" Dan exclaimed in amusement. He put a reassuring arm around Blair and pulled her close to him.

For a short moment, Blair relished in the warmth of his body. She tried her best to suppress a giggle when she felt the thin fabric of his grey tie rub against her cheek.

Almost reading her mind, Dan let out a grin.

"I knew something was wrong when you started admiring my tie."

"It's such an awful tie!" Blair exclaimed in between giggles.

Dan feigned indignation as he jokingly narrowed his eyes at her.

"So does this mean that you'll drop the 'Ice Queen' act and finally open up to me then?"

"That depends. Are we friends?"

Dan furrowed his brow in thought. "You know what? I dare say we are, Waldorf."

"Good," Blair said with a huge grin on her face, as she slowly broke away from his embrace.

"Oh, and Dan?"

"Yes, Blair?"

"This is the best sandwich I've ever had," Blair blurted out, before both she and Dan threw their heads back in laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey! This took me forever to finish, thanks to school and all its glory, but I hope you enjoy it! On a general note, this chapter makes a lot of references to episode 4x16, so if you don't know who Bryn Harold is—she's the one who Blair tries to network with during Eric's birthday party._

* * *

Dressed in long, sweeping Marchesa gown, Blair gracefully made her way out of her limo and found herself staring apprehensively at the famous granite steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Despite the fact that this was the first time since high school that she's stepped foot in what used to be her throne, it struck Blair how utterly indifferent she felt. After all, this was where she spent every lunch break in, sitting on these very steps, sipping iced Americanos from Dean & Deluca with Serena, and scheming with the rest of her friends.

But now, as she slowly and calculatedly climbed every step, it merely felt like any other Thursday night in New York, like in any other venue for some obscure yet undoubtedly elaborate event—the very event she was assigned to plan just a few weeks ago. Her insides nervously fluttered, as she surveyed her surroundings, checking if everything was in order, from the white lily arrangements adorning the lobby to the hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne being passed around. She tried to suppress a nervous cough when she suddenly found herself face to face with her supervisor.

"Blair!" Epperley beckoned, dressed in the same red, empire-cut Valentino dress Blair helped pick out for her earlier that morning.

Forcing a tight smile in response, Blair strode towards her, already anticipating a reproachful lecture. "What do you think?" She asked, unconsciously biting her lip.

"It's fabulous!" Epperley beamed, as she pulled Blair in for a kiss on each cheek. "The guests I highlighted on the list are here, the seared tuna is scrumptious, and this place is absolutely gorgeous!"

Blair's face immediately brightened as she took in Epperley's words. She couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. "Thank you," she gushed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

Epperley simply gave her a small wink of appreciation before disappearing into the crowd.

Unable to contain her excitement, Blair quickly pulled out her Blackberry from her metallic Ferragamo clutch and sent Dan a text.

_**Humphrey! Get ur ass here! W party's going gr8!**_

When she felt her phone vibrate on her hand, she already knew it would be a message from Dan.

_**Congrats! I'll be late tho. Don't wait up. On gift bag duty. **_

Blair's face immediately fell. She hadn't been able to spend more than ten minutes with Dan all week due to a stressful combination of work and school. While he had a whole slew of papers and assignments to complete, Blair, on the other hand, was bombarded with a W event to plan on the last minute. What made things worse was the fact that she felt more alone than ever before. With Serena still avoiding her at all costs, probably seeking refuge at Hamilton House or maybe even at the van der Woodsen penthouse, Blair realized that she had literally no one to turn to.

Fervently shaking away her thoughts, she grumpily stuffed her cell phone back into her clutch, making no effort to send Dan a reply.

"So Brooklyn couldn't make it, huh?" Chuck's voice uttered from behind. Blair instantly froze on her spot, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

With a smug look on his face, he walked in front of her and hungrily took in her stunned expression. Blair couldn't help but notice that he was dressed in one of those pretentious double-breasted blazers with a gold-chained poshfit hanging across his jacket and a silk, cerise pocket square neatly folded in his breast pocket—clearly an ensemble only a Bass could pull. However, the fire in his eyes and his arrogance were what made her so weak all of a sudden. Blair immediately felt herself recoil at the thought of him succeeding, so she mustered the strength to narrow her eyes at him.

"Go away, Bass. I'm working," She snarled.

"Pent up tension, icy tone," Chuck listed, as his eyes blatantly gave her a once-over, "Seems your new flame doesn't know how to properly ruffle your feathers—"

"Are you about done?" Blair exclaimed.

"Are _you_?" He spat out, suddenly losing all of his nerve. Blair flinched but held herself in place.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked coldly, her chin rising ever so slightly. Chuck did his best not to smirk. He knew he was winning, just from the way she struggled to compose herself in front of him.

"Whatever's going on with you and Humphrey—you can drop the act. Rebounds were never your strong suit."

Blair rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Dan is not my rebound—nor of any importance to you for that matter. So if you would excuse me, I actually have a job to do." She shoved him away to give her some space, but his hand had shortly caught her elbow, sending bolts of electricity down her spine.

"If you think Bryn Harold's going to help you further your career, you're wrong. She already picked Raina…just like I did," Chuck breathed out harshly against her ear. Despite the frantic drumming in her chest, Blair managed to turn her face to look at him once more.

"The blast was true…you're dating her," Blair whispered disbelievingly.

The sadness in her eyes almost made him lose it right then and there, but Chuck willed himself to keep up his stony demeanor.

"Yes, I am dating Raina," Chuck lied, as he gazed at the crowd for his date. He was the one behind the whole Gossip Girl blast last week, the one who made public his awful but necessary string of dates with the Thorpe heiress. After all, this was his signature form of retaliation. Knowing full well what Blair's reaction would be, Chuck called Raina and brought her out to places all over the city; it didn't take long before Gossip Girl picked up on what he was doing. Raina was not only the new face of Girls Inc., the very organization Blair had been striving to get into all year; she was also physically everything Blair was not. She was tall, curvy and alluring in the conventional sense that Chuck knew could very well play on Blair's insecurities, having lived under the shadow of her best friend all her life.

Unsurprisingly, Raina didn't need too much convincing before she readily accepted. Even though Chuck knew he was practically playing with fire by dating the daughter of the man who was trying to undermine his company, he couldn't care less at that moment. The only thing that had been on his mind for the past two weeks was the possibility of watching Blair get what she deserved.

"Not to dampen your plans or anything, but Bryn's not interested in doing your front of book idea," He added tersely, hoping his words stung her just as much as they did him.

"H-How do you know?" Blair managed, as she tried not to flinch at the way Chuck's grip on her elbow burned her skin. She should have expected that he would have hardened up immediately after what happened two weeks ago at the W Office, but this—this was different. He was just cruel now.

"I'm _Chuck Bass_. I know everything."

With that, he brusquely let go of her arm and made his way towards the crowd, desperately anticipating the same surge of victory that coursed through his veins whenever he knew he'd won. Only this time, he felt nothing, just dread and an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

Silently panicking, he quickly looked back, hoping to find her once again, but to his horror Blair had already left. His heart was pounding, as his eyes fervently searched the crowd for the brunette. He'd done it this time, he realized in agony. He crossed a line and she was sure to never forgive him again.

Chuck's thoughts were momentarily interrupted when he heard someone clear her throat from behind. Slowly, he swirled around to find Blair in all her composed glory.

"You may be Chuck Bass, but _I'm _Blair Waldorf and nothing is outside my reach. Good-bye, Chuck," Blair said as nonchalantly as she could, before stomping away to relish in private the way Chuck's mouth gaped after her.

* * *

"With my W Blog, I'm imprinting proper etiquette and fashion sense, as well as my philanthropic mandate on a whole new generation—much like you did!" Blair said enthusiastically.

"Claire, was it?" Bryn Harold asked with a disinterested tone in her voice.

Blair bit her tongue. "Blair. My name is Blair Waldorf."

"Well, _Blair_, I'm terribly sorry, but my schedule is simply all booked," Bryn said, sighing dramatically.

"Oh…" Blair's voice trailed off, as she felt a crushing wave of disappointment wash over her. _Chuck was right, _she thought dejectedly.

"By the way, have you seen Chuck Bass? I heard he's dating Raina Thorpe and I have so much to discuss with her!" Bryn asked in excitement.

"No…I haven't seen either of them," Blair replied through gritted teeth.

"Shame, well, nice speaking to you, anyway, Claire." Bryn Harold was already inching away from Blair, when Chuck swooped in from nowhere and practically held her in place.

"Bryn! How's the opera business?" Chuck blurted out, ignoring Blair's gaping mouth. He had been watching Blair's ill-fated attempt at networking for the last couple of minutes, partly out of curiosity but mostly because he felt bad for what he said to her earlier that evening. Thus, the moment he noticed Bryn's bored expression, he knew it was his cue to take over.

Bryn Harold's face immediately brightened when the young Bass tycoon placed a peck on her cheek. "Chuck Bass! Just the man I've been looking for. Do you mind fetching your wonderful date so we can—"

"Well, you're staring at her," Chuck said nonchalantly, as he gestured towards Blair. He was now holding unto the remnants of his improvisational skills, forcing a placid smile on his face.

"You two are dating?" Bryn asked, as both she and Blair stared back at him in disbelief.

"Bass, what are you—"  
"Adrienne!" Chuck called excitedly, the moment he recognized the familiar face from the distance. He was just _this_ lucky.

"Chuck Bass! How've you been?" Adrienne Gold greeted, automatically extending his hand in greeting. "Blair Waldorf? Is that you? Well, it was about time, sweetheart!" He beamed cheerfully, as he recognized the pretty brunette in front of him.

"I have to thank you again for doing that article on me. It was absolutely tasteful. Well done," He said, as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

Blair's mind was still reeling from the whole spectacle that just transpired in front of her that Chuck had to put his hand on the small of her back to steady her.  
"You're…Adrienne Gold. Adrienne Gold of Bergdorf Goodman. You…know her?" Bryn Harold asked in disbelief, her jaw shamelessly hanging open.

"'Know?' You mean _worship_. This young lady got me a good start to the company," Adrienne said matter-of-factly. "But anyway, I should go. The wife's probably already looking for me. Bass, always a pleasure. And Waldorf, I better see you and your mother at the charity gala next week." He flashed Blair and Chuck a toothy grin, before sauntering off into the crowd.

Bryn was still gaping, when Chuck finally cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"So, Bryn, Blair here was just telling me about how she wanted to interview you for a front of book idea for W Magazine."

Blair looked back at Chuck incredulously, wondering how it was he knew her so well, but he was still staring at Bryn expectantly. She nevertheless took the tightening of his grip on her waist as reassurance.

"Yes!" Bryn exclaimed as her eyes widened in glee. "And I was just telling her what a wonderful idea that was. When can we start?"

Blair shot her a pointed look. "But you just said your schedule was all booked."

Bryn simply let out a flustered laugh, as she instinctively pulled Blair in for a hug. "Oh, I'm positive I can squeeze W into my schedule! We need the PR anyway. Just call my assistant and we'll do lunch, K? Toodles!" She said before flashing each of them a blinding smile and drifting towards the crowd.

The moment Bryn disappeared, Chuck forced himself to let go of Blair's waist even when it felt so natural to be this close to her. Blair noticed the sudden shift in mood as well, as she moved away to give them more space.

She bit her lip and focused her gaze on the floor. "Chuck…thanks."

Chuck looked up at her, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"This doesn't mean we're even though," Blair quickly corrected herself, glaring at him under her eyelashes.

Chuck's face broke out into a genuine smile, as he nervously played with his tie. "Of course not. Where would the challenge be in that?"

They both exchanged smirks, letting the lightness of their conversation linger as long as possible.

However, their moment shortly reached its conclusion, when Raina Thorpe suddenly appeared and pulled Chuck towards her to give him a deep kiss.

"Hey," Raina breathed out, the moment they pulled apart. Overcome with guilt, Chuck's first instinct was to look back at Blair, but the second he did, he instantly regretted it.

She looked as if the wind got knocked out of her. And even though that was the exact reaction he had been pining for this whole time, Chuck felt sick to his stomach, wondering if it was embarrassment or guilt or a combination of the two creeping under his skin.

"Oh! Forgive my manners!" Raina exclaimed, when her gaze fell on Blair. "I'm Raina Thorpe," She said chirpily, clearly oblivious to the growing tension in the air.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Blair," Blair croaked out weakly, forcing herself to keep her gaze away from Chuck. "Anyway, I should go," She said aloud to no one in particular.

Chuck's face tensed. "Blair, you don't—"

"No…I do. Um, enjoy the party," She said, forcing herself once more to give the couple a weak smile before walking towards the crowd. Chuck was just about to follow her, when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"So your place or mine?" Raina asked suggestively, as her hands wandered down below his belt.


	10. Chapter 10

_As usual, I'm a little iffy on this chapter. Tell me what you think on the reviews-which by the way have been amazing! I can't thank you again for all the wonderful support!_

* * *

Chuck gritted his teeth, as Raina's nails dug into his sleeve. He was still shaken by the fact that Blair had run off so suddenly, leaving him with the mess that he foolishly started. Perhaps that had always been his plan, to hurt her and show her that he could just as easily move on like she so clearly did with Dan. But Chuck knew that his plan ended the moment he swooped in on her disastrous conversation with Bryn Harold and took on the role of her hero for once. He was always like this with Blair, constantly on his toes, constantly in a state of indecision. Whether he liked it or not, she brought the best and worst out of him.

When Raina's hands were now shamelessly playing with the buckle on his belt, Chuck instantly grew nauseous. He shouldn't be here, standing this close to her, feeling her hands travel below his waist. The second her fingers grazed the zipper on his pants, he instantly jerked away.  
"Raina, not here," He warned harshly, taking hold of both her wrists.

"Such a gentleman," Raina said flirtatiously, as she wriggled her wrists out of his grip to wrap her hands around his neck. "But I prefer it when you're rough," She whispered, before pulling him down to catch her lips once more.

Momentarily stunned, Chuck was about to pull away again, when he felt someone do it for him. Like a crashing wave of guilt, a large hand met Chuck's chest and forcibly jostled him aside, effectively tearing him away from Raina.

"Dad!" She yelled instantly, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Staring daggers at Chuck, Russell Thorpe shook his head tersely. "Raina, get your things and go."

"Dad, what—"

"Raina. _Now_," Russell warned, his words resonating a piercing hiss.

Trying to compose himself, Chuck wiped his mouth, ridding himself of any trace of Raina. Though a small part of him was thankful that someone pulled him away before things could progress, Chuck realized that there was one overlooked benefit in dating the Thorpe heiress—that is, extracting revenge from her father. He narrowed his eyes at Russell and bit out a harsh laugh. "Come on now, Russell. She's a grown woman."  
"_You_, come with me. Outside." Seething, the grown man did not give Chuck another second to respond, before pushing him towards the balcony.

"Don't touch my daughter again, you hear me?" Russell barked, as he released Chuck's elbow from his painful grip.  
Hiding his wince, Chuck simply scoffed. "Then don't touch my company."

"Do you even know why I want to destroy your precious little legacy so much?" Russell yelled, his voice competing with the loud music from the party.

"If this is about your unrequited love for my stepmother, save me the therapy bills."

"Unbelievable," Russell said as he shook his head in disgust. "I thought you'd know me better by now. Did Raina ever talk about her mother?"

* * *

Ever the hostess, Blair plastered on her biggest society smile and pretended her life was not falling apart at the seams. Seething inwardly, she admonished herself for thinking that by some small, ludicrous chance, Chuck might have actually changed. But seeing him stick his tongue down Raina Thorpe's throat and the fact that he orchestrated this whole wretched plan to ruin her evening to begin with just reaffirmed how bent he was on hurting her. She quickly whisked a flute of champagne from a moving tray and tried to clear her head of any more thoughts about him.

Suddenly nauseous, Blair backed away from the crowds of guests, only to come into collision with someone from behind. Already mentally preparing her speech of apology, Blair sheepishly turned around, but her mouth fell, the moment she recognized the familiar face.

"S…you came," she said in disbelief.

Despite the pink, sparkly number Serena was wearing, the frown on her face told an entirely different story. "I'm W Blog's It-Girl of the week. I had to show up," She said dryly, as if it physically hurt to be in Blair's presence.  
"No, of course." Blair instantly said, suddenly feeling foolish. If her icy greeting was any indication, her friendship with Serena was clearly still on a sabbatical. "Um, is Ben here?" Blair asked, desperately searching for middle ground.

"Ben is…nowhere," Serena said vaguely, refusing to meet her best friend's eyes. "What?"

"We broke up."

Blair's mouth gaped.  
"Look, just save me the 'I told you so,' OK?" Serena's eyes flashed angrily before meeting the ground.

"Serena, stop it. Come here," Blair said seriously as she pulled her best friend in for a hug. "I've been a horrible best friend. Forgive me?"  
Quickly unraveling, Serena nodded against Blair's hair and let out a soft chuckle. She missed this. She missed her. These last few weeks had been horrible without her best friend, and yet she couldn't quite summon the strength to face her. Especially after that revelatory bomb she had dropped on her about Dan.

_Dan, Dan, Dan,_ Serena thought in anguish. She loved him; she really did, but everything was so confusing. Her feelings were scattered all over the place and she just wished she and Blair could travel back in time, back to the beginning of the year, when they were both in Paris, having not a care in the world.

"Do you want to talk about…it?" Blair finally asked, stroking Serena's back consolingly.

Serena sighed. "It was never going to work anyway—Ben and me. We just wanted to hold unto our pasts, you know? Back when everything wasn't so screwed up."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," Serena mumbled sadly. She wiped her tears away and held Blair tighter. "The party looks great, B."

Blair smiled weakly. "Too bad our nights aren't."

Pulling away gently, Serena arched her eyebrow. "What's wrong with your night?"

"Chuck and Raina," Blair said with a sad smile.  
Serena's mouth fell. "They're actually dating? I saw the Gossip Girl blast last week, but I didn't think much of it."

"They are." Blair said in defeat, as she tried to repress the image of Raina on Chuck's arm.

"Let's get some fresh air. What do you say?" Serena offered, as she interlaced her fingers with Blair's.

Smirking, Blair rolled her eyes as she let Serena drag her to the balcony.

"Oh New York, you're a city of despair!" Serena exclaimed in mock hysteria, as the cold air met her bare skin. Laughing, Blair followed suit and rested her arms on the concrete railing. She was about to let out her own witty response, when a loud booming voice emanated from the distance. Out of curiosity, the girls followed the voice and crept behind a corner. They noticed two dark figures standing erect in the night, but their faces were not visible. Squinting her eyes, Blair realized it was Chuck, who seemed to be having a very serious conversation with Russell Thorpe.

"Is that Russell Thorpe?" Serena asked, as if she were just reading Blair's mind.

"Yes." Blair gulped, as the color drained from her face.

"You're lying!" Chuck yelled angrily, unaware that Serena and Blair were listening nearby.

"Believe me. I wish I were. Because of your father, my wife is dead," Russell said, shutting his eyes in anguish.

Blair's body instantly trembled and Serena's jaw fell. They clasped their hands tighter and awaited Chuck's response.

"No, no, _no_. I confronted my father about the fire when he was alive. It was an accident. He owned up to the death of the security guard. He never mentioned a woman," Chuck rambled, as he paced back and forth.  
Russell shook his head darkly. "Why do you think the security guard was in the building? He was trying to save my wife. No one knows the truth, not even Raina. She thinks her mother left me for another man."

Chuck suddenly stopped moving to stare at Russell, aghast. None of this made any sense. As calmly as he could, he processed all this information being thrown at his face. "When my father died, we were in a good place. You're trying to rob me of that. You'd say anything to hurt me."

"Perhaps," Russell said solemnly, his eyes no longer meeting Chuck's. "But I think you knew your father well enough to believe that he was capable of deliberately taking a life."

"He'd never—"

"Deny it all you want, Charles. You and your father—you destroy people's lives. And as much as I want to see Bass Industries fall apart, I care about my daughter so much more. Consider the company yours. I suddenly don't want to play this game anymore."

As though a knife had just pierced his heart, Chuck suddenly felt his world crashing around him. With his mind still racing and his chest rising and falling rapidly, he managed to turn his gaze away from Russell, only to come face to face with Blair. "Chuck?" She asked quietly, her grip on Serena's hand tightening by the second. Sadness was etched on her beautiful face and, for a moment, Chuck was enraptured by her presence that he forgot about everything else. But that moment quickly dissipated. He suddenly stormed off, ignoring her shrill calls, and strode towards the exit. He needed to run away—far away from his father's legacy, far away from New York and the strings that came naturally attached, but most especially from Blair, the only person who could break down the barriers he was fervently intent on bringing up.


	11. Chapter 11

_TriGemini: Hey thanks for the reviews! You have no idea how awesome they are! And yes, actually, I do plan to bring in the Prince! But not in a way you'd expect. ;)_

* * *

The moment she locked eyes with him, she was paralyzed. It was as though she and Chuck were thrust into their own world, their eyes never straying away from the other, their souls, entirely in sync. And just as she was about to reach out to him, like lightning, he tore his gaze away from her, wrenching her heart open in the process, and strode away before she could even mouth something—_anything_.

"B…" Serena said slowly, unsure of what else to say.

But Blair ignored her. She called after Chuck, her cries merely resembling whispers, as he continued to widen the distance between them.

_No. He doesn't get to run_, she thought almost desperately. Shooting Russell her coldest look, Blair grasped the train of her dress and did something she swore never to repeat: she ran after Chuck.

With his pulse racing, Chuck headed towards the bar and pulled out a bottle of scotch from the shelf, altogether avoiding the alarmed looks of the bartenders. The room had suddenly grown stifling, and his throat was painfully dry. He automatically unscrewed the bottle cap and guzzled down the dark liquid, before finally making it outside the Met, where the vast, open area stood before him. He broke away from his gulp momentarily to breathe in the cold air, finding fleeting comfort in the way it numbed his body.

"Chuck!" He heard Blair call after him, pulling him out of his trance. He closed his eyes, as he heard her shoes hit the pavement, one step at a time.

"Chuck?" She asked softly, now only an arm's length away from him. Grimacing, she took in his gaunt appearance, the smell of scotch instantly hitting her nose.

When he finally looked back, the bleakness of his gaze unnerved her.

"He lied to me, Blair. He lied to me till the day he died."

"You don't know that," She said hopefully.

"Didn't you just hear what Thorpe said?" Chuck barked out, his nostrils flaring.

"I did!" Blair shouted back, ignoring the tears that stung her eyes. "Why do you suddenly trust the guy anyway? He's been trying to steal your company this whole time!"

"Bart killed his wife," Chuck said through gritted teeth. His eyes were searching hers fervently, wondering if she had any idea what he was feeling.

When she didn't say anything back, Chuck felt the sudden urge to lash out on her. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I'm here for you," She whispered quietly as her lip quivered.

"So now that my world has suddenly come crumbling down, you care? What happened to all the shit I did to you? What happened to 'leave me alone?' and 'never speak to me again?'"

"I still care about you!" She cried, thrusting her fists at his chest.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but you lost that very right when you told me to leave you alone!"

"Chuck just stop," Blair pleaded, suddenly exasperated. "You've just been put through a lot—"

"Understatement of the year!" Chuck bellowed in almost sadistic pleasure. He took another swig of his scotch and let it dribble down his throat, altogether ignoring the way Blair flinched beside him.

"Leave me alone, Blair," he said darkly, no longer facing her.

But being who she was, she remained in her place. "No," She said firmly.

Chuck pounded his fist against a concrete wall. "Leave me the fuck alone, Blair!"

Blair watched him wince in pain. She grabbed his bleeding fist and caressed it gently.

Chuck immediately snatched his hand away, glaring at her venomously. "For fuck's sake, are you deaf?"

But Blair kept her mouth shut and willed herself not to cry in front of him.

"Please…Blair, just leave," He whimpered despairingly. His legs finally gave in and he found himself slumping down on one of the granite steps, his bottle of scotch clanking as it brushed against the pavement.

Blair admonished herself for feeling so helpless, when he clearly needed someone strong right now. Without thinking, she sat next to him. They weren't quite touching, but her heart was beating rapidly nonetheless.

Chuck couldn't find it in him to meet her gaze just yet. He was conscious of what she was doing, that she was desperate to help him. And though every part of him was aching to be saved and extricated from his own private affliction, he held unto his coldness like a shield.

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, savoring their companionable silence. He couldn't remember the last time they just sat together and silently regarded each other's company. So they remained in that position, for how long, neither of them knew. But when he finally looked up at her, Chuck was surprised to find that she was smiling. There was almost an inscrutable glow about her that enkindled a familiar fluttering in his stomach and caused his curiosity to surge. He was already arching his eyebrow in confusion, when Blair suddenly spoke, "Remember in grade 8…when I accidentally got you into trouble?"

"Blair…" Chuck said faintly.

"Well, do you?" She urged, showing no sign of quitting.

Chuck studied her expectant face, silently wondering where she was going with this. Perhaps it was the persistence of her tone that spurred him, Chuck didn't know. All he was sure of was that he had to reply to her; he owed her that much at least.

"'Accidentally?' That's not what I recall, Waldorf."

Blair's face instantly brightened.

"OK, fine I may have ratted you out to Bart," She confessed, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. "But it was your fault to begin with for stealing Nate, when he and I were already set to go to Aspen that weekend."

Chuck felt his guard slipping already, but a huge part of him was just content with sitting next to Blair, breathing in her scent.

"I was hosting the annual 'Lost Weekend,'" Chuck finally said, clutching unto his bottle of scotch a little tighter. "Nathaniel's absence would've been detrimental."

Blair scoffed. "'Lost?' Is that what you call getting nearly half of Nate's lacrosse team arrested?"

"Which was something my father didn't have to know about," Chuck blurted out before he could stop himself.

Blair simply smirked. "You were so mad at me; we didn't talk for a whole month."

Chuck arched his eyebrow at her, trying desperately to hold unto his cool exterior.

"Well, seeing as I was stripped of a cell phone _and_ a car service, it wasn't that difficult."

Blair playfully jabbed him in the arm, her delicate knuckles sending an instant thrill down his spine. He wanted to hold her hand just then, but deep down he knew it would be a fruitless gesture.

Chuck suddenly felt sick to his stomach, rendered helpless by the rapid beating in his chest. He was about to finally get up and leave, when Blair spoke again, "What about that time you, Serena, Nate and I snuck out of homeroom in sixth grade? Remember that?"

Chuck studied her hopeful expression for a moment, still curious as to where this whole journey down memory lane was coming from. He simply shrugged.

"How could I forget? That was probably the only time Blair Waldorf played hooky."  
Blair rolled her eyes. "It was also the time Serena and I had our first joint, remember? Or did you mentally block that out of your head?"

When she narrowed her eyes at him, something had clicked in his head. "Jesus, you should win the medal for holding the most grudges," he told her, the corner of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.  
Blair laughed out loud, as she buried her face in her palms. "I hated you so much that day! I mean first, you coerced me into skipping class. Then, you went ahead and ruined my skirt too!"

"That was an accident. I was a goner by then! The lighter just slipped—" Chuck exclaimed, as happy images of that day flashed before his eyes.

"—I didn't even have the heart to explain to Dorota why there was a giant burn mark on my skirt!" She finally said, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

Somehow the slight twitch in Chuck's mouth comforted every bone in her body. She knew the Chuck she loved was still in there. He was lost, yes, but he was still in there; and knowing that was all she needed.

Her breathing had finally evened out, but her smile remained in its place. Chuck couldn't help but gaze into her eyes—gone was the darkness, the indifference, which he had so fervently despised, and in its place was happiness and maybe, Chuck hoped, even affection.

Terrified that their moment was slipping away, he racked his brain for something further to say. "No, I think our most legendary fight had to be at Eric's ninth birthday. Do you remember?" He asked fondly.

Blair shook her head, her smile still cheerfully intact.

"Spin the bottle? A certain coat closet? Do these ring any bells?"

Recollection suddenly washed over her face. "Oh my God!"

Chuck's grin widened. "We spent all seven minutes bickering. And I distinctly recall you declaring that you wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole."

"Well, obviously! If the bottle had just landed on Nate, we wouldn't have been in that predicament."

"You liked it," Chuck teased.

"You wish!" Blair exclaimed in mock indignation.

That sent Chuck laughing again, something he realized he had not done in a long time. It warmed him to think that only she could muster a real laugh from him; and despite everything that had happened between them, she was doing just that, slowly letting him see something bright for once.

"See, Bass, we've been fighting since…infancy!" She exclaimed, oblivious to the fact that the tight bun in her hair was slowly unraveling.

Chuck felt a sudden urge to brush a few of those stray curls behind her ear, but again he controlled himself. He needed to tread these waters carefully if he wanted another chance with Blair.

"But we always find our way back to each other," he murmured a little more solemnly than before.

Blair instantly felt something tug in her heart. The light and carefree exchange of stories they had just shared was quickly slipping away, and everything was being clouded by cold, hard reality once again. It was always like this with Chuck. One minute, he was playful and relaxed, and the next, grave and equivocal. She figured that was a part of his allure—never really knowing which side to him she would get, but now it just felt incredibly tiresome.

"I haven't forgiven you, Chuck," She heard herself saying, not quite meeting his eye. "I don't think I ever will…but when I told you in Paris that you would always be a part of my world…I meant every word."

When she finally looked up, Chuck was no longer facing her. He was back to staring listlessly at the distance, his face stripped of emotion.

She felt her eyes tearing up again, but instead of looking away, she kept her gaze at him. She was searching for something—an inkling of human emotion, slight movements that showed he was still listening. But much to her dismay, his face remained expressionless.

She was already contemplating leaving, but somehow her body remained glued to the pavement.

"Come away with me," Chuck finally croaked out.

"What…?"

"I can't be in this city anymore. Let's go somewhere, just you and me."

"Chuck, we can't—"

"We can do anything we want, Blair. Go anywhere we want."

"But I don't want to leave. I don't want _you_ to leave."

"Come away with me," Chuck said again.

"No…you can't keep running away."

When Chuck's face fell, Blair thought he looked so young and vulnerable just then.

She felt an inexplicable urge to tilt his chin up with her hand. "Look at me, Bass."

But as his eyes roamed hers, it suddenly hit her how broken he was.

"Please don't run away."

She quickly wiped away her tears, refusing to look weak in front of him. There was something in his eyes that broke her heart and she suddenly couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't bear being this close to him, touching him, smelling him, feeling his breath against her skin.

"Blair…"

"I have to go," Blair blurted out breathlessly. She scrambled to her feet and purposely averted her gaze away from him, knowing full well that the dejected expression on his face would only further puncture her heart. But, as though paralysis had struck the lower half of her body, Blair realized that her legs simply would not budge. Her heart was breaking but she knew deep down that she couldn't just leave without seeking some semblance of closure.

Slowly, she tilted her chin to the side and whispered, "Just please…please don't run away this time." With that, she covered her quivering lips with a shaky hand and walked a way as swiftly as she could.

Each step she took seemed to be heavier than the next. She didn't know where she was going in particular, passing through crowds of guests, catching glimpses of familiar faces. Then, suddenly her eyes fell on the one person she was looking for.

"Blair! Sorry I'm late. Epperley gave me some last-minute errands and I was all the way uptown—" Dan's voice immediately trailed off, "Whoa, hey, are you OK?"

Miserably, Blair looked up at the pair of brown eyes staring back at her in concern.

"Take me home, please."

* * *

"Are you sure you're going to be OK?" Dan asked for the fifth time that night.

He helped tuck Blair into bed and was now giving her the same concerned look he had been giving her all throughout the cab ride home.

"Yes," She mumbled weakly. "Sorry for ruining your night though."

Dan hushed her. "Hey, it's alright. Just try and get some sleep, OK? I'll come by in the morning."

Blair looked up at him gratefully, clutching unto her duvet a little tighter. Without saying anything further, Dan pressed a small kiss on her forehead, before finally walking out to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

_Again, sorry for the delay! But I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!_

* * *

"You're eerily quiet today."

Blair did not bother to meet his gaze, preferring instead to remain stiffly seated on her office chair. "It's called professionalism. I suggest you try it."

Dan let out a weary sigh. "You've been staring at that empty word document for the last half hour. Is…there something in your mind?"  
"No," She replied curtly, her gaze still fixed on her iMac.

"Really? So you don't have an explanation for why you looked so miserable last night, or why you couldn't even mumble anything coherent when I asked you if you were OK all fifteen times today?"

"Just drop it, Dan," She said through gritted teeth.

He eyed her skeptically. It was exhausting trying to decipher Blair Waldorf's emotions, especially when she had long mastered the perfect, cold exterior. "Check your phone," he said solemnly.

Blair stared at her Blackberry in apprehension. Slowly, she picked it up and scrolled down to the message she had opened earlier that morning—the very message she had been expecting the moment she ran away from Chuck at the Met steps.

**Spotted: The great Chuck Bass at JFK, trying to make a run for it. Perhaps his little heart-to-heart with B last night was a little less heart and a lot more break. Good thing our Queen is duly prepared. I have it on good authority that there's a shoulder in Brooklyn waiting to be cried on. XOXO, **_**Gossip Girl.**_

That was it. He left. For where, she and the rest of Manhattan did not know.

With formidable effort, Blair finally tore her eyes away from the screen of her cell phone. She met Dan's expectant gaze and gave him a small nod, the only thing her body could offer.

"That's your response? A brief, noncommittal nod? The guy you're in love with just left for God-knows-where and all you do is nod and get back to work?"  
"Is there a point to this conversation?" She asked stonily.  
Inhaling sharply, Dan ran his hand through his hair. "Blair, you promised you'd stop concealing how you feel, at least with me."

"I know, but can't we do a rain check, just this once?" She pleaded. "I'm no mood to dissect what happened last night or…_him_." Suddenly, Blair rose to her feet. She grabbed her coat and purse and shot Dan an apologetic look. "I'm just going to call it a day. I'll tell Epperley I'm feeling sick or something. I'm…sorry, Dan."

She may have had an Art History paper to write, a number of fashion showrooms to visit, and not to mention, a whole lot of explaining to do for Dan's sake—but right now, there was only one thing on Blair's mind: _Barney's_.

* * *

Wrinkling her nose, Blair regarded the rows of dresses displayed in front of her. Normally, tulle and chiffon were all that were necessary to brighten up her mood, but somehow, they only further amplified the numbness flowing through her veins. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it or how many pairs of leather, peep-toe pumps and cashmere knit sweaters she purchased, she always found herself face-to-face with the doldrums of her drama-filled life.

She tugged at a paisley, Ralph Lauren skirt, then a Jil Sander sheath dress, then a Derek Lam eyelet print skirt, and still she felt nothing. But when her fingers finally brushed a ribbony fabric even her mother would approve of, it was wrenched to the opposite side by an unknown hand. Flashing with anger, she looked up at its owner and nearly toppled over when she recognized exactly who it was.

"Blair, what a pleasant surprise!" Lily van der Woodsen beamed, as she placed the hanger back in its place and walked towards the brunette.

"Lily, hi," Blair greeted, instantly retreating to her polite self.

"Do you have a minute?" Serena's mom asked with a bright smile. "There's something I have to talk to you about."

Blair nodded easily. "Of course. What about?"

"It's about Charles."

"Oh."

Lily gave her a sympathetic smile. "I understand that you two aren't exactly in good terms at the moment. But seeing as you're the only person to have ever gotten through to him, I was wondering if you knew of his whereabouts?"

Blair's eyes fell to the ground. "I don't. I'm sorry, Lily."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Blair's head shot up in curiosity. "What's wrong?"

Lily beckoned towards a nearby chaise lounge, and Blair sat down next to her, her heart beating rapidly in anticipation.

"Russell Thorpe made another bid for the company this morning. He doubled his offer. And now, it's chaos back at the office," Lily murmured desolately.

Blair's eyes widened. "But that's impossible. He pulled out of his offer altogether just last night."

"That's not what he said this morning," Lily said, shaking her head. "Chuck should be here. Forgive me, but I simply can't wrap my head around how irresponsible he's being. To leave at a time like this, when his company is hanging by the thread—what is he thinking?"

Guiltily, Blair shook her head. "No, Lily. You have it all wrong. It's Russell. I heard him confront Chuck last night. He told him that Bart was somehow involved in the death of his wife. He…he accused Bart of killing his wife and for covering the whole thing up."

"Oh my god," Lily gasped. "Is that why he left? Bart may have been cold but he couldn't…he couldn't have."

Blair gulped. "I know. Chuck's just…confused right now."

"What should we do?" Lily exclaimed, her tone tinged with desperation.

"Look, just give me some time. I'll try to reach him. But Lily, promise me you'll do everything in your power to stop Russell from taking over Bass Industries."

"I will."

* * *

Fashion had always been something that Chuck Bass held unto as an I.D. Even at a young age, he was reared to value the sense of worth that a three-piece suit could bestow on a person. Thus, while most kindergarten kids were draped in t-shirts and jeans, Chuck, under the controlling guidance of his father, was always dressed to the nines. Bart told him that it separated him from the hoi polloi, that it showed to the world that a Bass was easily discernible in a crowd. And as the years passed by, Chuck never deviated from that same dictum. Of course, being the rebel that he was, he gave his father's words a new meaning; he explored untraditional color palettes—purples and pinks and other pastel colors; he wore elaborate prints and patterns; he sought ornate cufflinks and posh fits—all in the hopes of somehow extracting him from his father's shadow. Even when he had matured and his clothes ceased to stand out in the same condescending way the uniform of his youth did, Chuck still held unto fashion and its many manifestations as his very own I.D.

But anyone who knew Chuck Bass would not be able to recognize him now. There he was staggering along the cobblestone steps of Paris; his hair was tousled, his eye bags, grotesque and dark, and the crisp, tailored suit combination he was known for was replaced with a wrinkled everyday-man's oxford and simple, dark denim jeans. No, this was _not_ Chuck Bass.

Swaying unsteadily, he held up his bandaged hand to block the tenacious sun from his eyes. It was still marginally swollen from crashing against the concrete wall of the Met, but Chuck couldn't feel anything. He was too inebriated from the countless glasses of scotch he knocked back in the last twenty-four hours. Smirking languidly, he pulled out his steel flask and took a generous swig in broad daylight. When an old woman scowled at him in disapproval, he aggressively brought his face close to hers and hissed, "See anything you like, _grand-mére_?" Frightened, the old woman shrunk back and walked away as quickly as possibly.

Exhaustion finally won over him and before he could help it, the lower half of his body hit the ground. He was slouching on the pavement, his head buried in his sweaty hands, smelling faintly of scotch. Then, when he convinced himself that he was finally losing it, a small hand rested on his shoulder. His head immediately rose to discern the person standing in front of him.

"Chuck?"

He swore his heart stopped beating for a second. "Eva," Chuck breathed out in surprise. He took in every last detail of her appearance—the way her off-white, floral sundress accentuated her small curves, the way her blonde hair reflected the sunlight. Chuck realized that she was exactly the same, exactly as how he had left her. Somehow, knowing that warmed every bone in his body.

"You're in Paris," She uttered as she neatly brushed his hair to the side with her hand.

"I am."

"Why?" Eva asked in disbelief, even though her lips were curving into a smile.

"I'm…"

"—Are you running away again?" She asked instantly, her tone bordering on motherly reprimand.

Chuck let out a bitter laugh. He took a generous swig from his flask before doling out an answer, "Who knows anymore? I'm Chuck Bass. And as far as I know, no one cares."

When a shadow fell over his face, she placed her small hand over his. "_She_ cares," Eva whispered knowingly. There was no mistaking whom she was referring to.  
Chuck inhaled deeply. "But that will never be enough, will it? Not after you…and my dad and me and everything else I destroy."

"Chuck, you've had too much to drink. You're not making any sense. Here, let's sit and I'll buy you a coffee." She pointed at a nearby café and held out her hand for him to take.  
"My little savior," He drawled, before clasping his hand around hers as if it were a lifeline. He shifted his weight against hers and she willingly obliged by putting an arm around him and leading him towards the direction of a chair. When she finally got him to sit down, she motioned for the waiter and ordered two espressos in rapid French.

"So how have you been?" She finally asked in concern.

"Never better. Can't you tell?"

Eva smirked. "I must confess this is a new side to you that I'm seeing."

"Is it a side you want to see more closely? Perhaps in the suite of my hotel?" Chuck murmured suggestively.

"—You have people who love you in New York, Chuck," She interjected with a small smile. "You should go back."

"And leave you, when you're dressed in that delectable dress?"

Knowing better, Eva ignored the way he licked his lips. She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly, hoping it would rouse him from his drunken daze. "Chuck Bass. Stop right there. You once told me that everyone in your life left you at some point, but maybe…maybe it's _you_ who's been doing the leaving all this time."

Chuck was about to open his mouth in protest when she beat him to it: "Whatever it is that brought you here, it's irrelevant. So stop running and go home."

_Of course, she'd say that_, Chuck thought fondly. Though she was palpably ignorant of the circumstances of his departure, of why he was here trying to escape the confines of his grim, pitch-black life back in New York, she, like always, saw the good out of everything. Eva was simply void of any darkness or malice. She turned a blind eye at adversity and iniquity even after her tumultuous past as an escort. It wasn't too long before the familiarity of her doe-eyed innocence—that infectious naiveté she wore like an armband—sent a thrill down his spine.

"I missed you, you know that?" Chuck heard himself murmuring. His grip on his cup tightened ever so slightly.

She gave him a kind smile. "I missed you too, Chuck. But not nearly as much as your friends and family back home have."

Chuck nodded soberly. He took in the sincerity in her gaze and felt a sudden wave of security wash over him. Then, his eyes flicked over to a glimmering spot on her hand—something he realized he, perhaps out of self-preservation, had been quick to miss.

"You're engaged," he said in surprise.

"Yes," She murmured, her eyes falling meekly at the modest ring on her finger.

"Are you happy?" He asked blankly.

"Very much."

That was it then, Chuck thought. The woman he was convinced he had been in love with was officially closing her heart to him. And though he expected feelings of uneasiness and bitterness to come over him, they never came. Rather, he was afforded with a sense of closure that he realized he had been seeking this entire time. Suddenly, he rose to his feet. He looked down at her, not with anger but with a small smile, which she instinctively returned. This chapter of his life was now over. He leaned in just slightly and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Have a good life then," Chuck whispered into her ear, before dropping a handful of Euros on the table and making his way towards the crowd.

* * *

"_Chuck, wherever you are, just please come back. You don't have to go through this alone."_

"_Hey, it's me again. Please, please pick up the phone. Lily's worried sick…_I'm_ worried sick."_

Blair stared at her empty inbox. It was almost too unbearable. All she wanted to do was reach out to him, to know that he was OK. Pacing nervously across the floor of her bedroom, she racked her brain for a possible course of action. Suddenly, her phone rang and Blair lost all but every inhibition in her body and sloppily dove for it. Her heart heaving with emotion, Blair quickly opened the text message:

**Bon jour, Upper East Siders! Throw away those tissues and open those plush curtains wide; the crazy Bass Hunt has finally come to a close! Word has it that C's back in Paris, consorting with none other than Eva, our favorite French saint—or rather, **_**martyr**_**, after B gets her hands on her, that is. XOXO, **_**Gossip Girl.**_

* * *

_So what do you think of Eva's appearance? I figured Chuck needed the closure and her being there to steer him back to Blair was important in many ways. _


	13. Chapter 13

_Can I just say what a crazy finale that was? While it broke my heart to watch Chuck and Blair say goodbye to each other, I honestly couldn't help but feel a little gypped off by the lack of interaction between Dan and Blair. So in response, I dedicate this entire chapter to solely D & B! Hope you guys enjoy it!_

* * *

"Don't forget my garment bags! Oh, and my striped pin cushions!"  
Dan let out a weary sigh. "For the last time, they're all packed."

She giggled on the other side of the phone. "I _so_ can't wait for you to visit tomorrow. Mom's been driving me crazy."  
A lazy smirk grazed his lips. "Well, I wish I could alleviate some of the crazy, but I'm afraid it's been following me a lot lately as well."  
"Yes, and it's called Blair Waldorf. I still can't get over how your friends with her."

"Hey, she's been through a lot," Dan argued uncomfortably.  
"And I haven't? Have you forgotten that she banned me from the city?" It was evident that the sugary sweetness in her voice was now replaced with bitterness.  
"You know how I feel, Jenny," Dan said despairingly. "Can't we have at least one decent phone conversation that doesn't end up with us arguing about her?"

He knew that the stars themselves would align differently the moment something other than repulsion sparked between him and Blair. Serena, Nate, Rufus—not one of them understood how he could've possibly befriended someone like Blair, a girl who had proven in many occasions just exactly how far she would go to get what she wanted, the feelings of others be damned.

But Jenny was his sister. When their parents got a divorce, Dan was grateful that she remained a constant reminder in his life telling him that he still had some semblance of normalcy—of a real, genuine family. And though it was difficult to imagine his sister as anything but the sweet, bubbly teenager he had always known and loved, Dan learned to accept this new side to her. Despite her flaws and the long list of mistakes she left in her wake, he still held her close to his heart. And in return, he expected Jenny to support him just like he supported her in the past.

Dan pressed his ear closer to his phone, forced to listen to the dead silence on the other side of it.

He inhaled sharply. "So that's it? You're giving me the silent treatment now?"  
He was about to slam the phone down, when he heard her voice speak up. "No…Dan. Go on Gossip Girl right now."  
"Why?"

* * *

"I need a drink," Blair muttered the moment he answered the door. She fled past him and forcefully made her way inside his loft, hoping to avoid the concern that automatically appeared in his eyes.

"Blair, I got the Gossip Girl blast…"

"—As fascinating as that is, Humphrey, I still don't have a gin martini in my hand." Without asking, she rummaged through his kitchen cabinet and searched vehemently for a decent bottle of liquor.

"There's beer in the fridge," Dan offered nervously.

"Oh my God, you're like a walking Brooklyn stereotype!" She screamed in exasperation. Wincing at the sharp sound of his kitchen cabinet being slammed shut, Dan quickly advanced towards her and held her arms in place.

"Blair, talk to me," He begged, seriousness tingeing his voice.

"Did you see the blast? The photos?" She demanded instantly.

Dan gulped, his grip slowly loosening. "I'm sorry, Blair."

She shut her eyes in anguish and turned her back to him. "So…is beer all you have?"

Dan let out a small sigh. "I might have half a bottle of Cuervo in my room. Will that do?"

* * *

"You know what I just realized?" Blair asked, her eyes half closed and her head swirling beyond control.

"What?"

"That I must've been suffering from some undiagnosed brain injury all my life," She muttered bitterly.

Dan smirked. "Care to elaborate?"

"I've spent my entire life fawning over French culture and trying to perfect my accent, when really, if you think about it, France is not all that special," She exclaimed, clutching unto her near empty mug. She narrowed her eyes at it as if it had done her wrong. "Seriously, all these writers and artists who had run off to Paris to discover themselves like Hemingway and Picasso—it's all crap. We all know they just wanted to bang some blonde, French floozie in the streets of Champs Elysees."

"Blair…"

"It's true! For the last couple of months, he told me he loved me and wanted me back!" Her lip quivered, as her gaze fell to the ground in defeat. "But really, I was just a way for him to trek down memory lane…or worse, another game to add to his collection. It's her that he wants—blonde, saintly Eva, who can never do anything wrong, who makes being a prostitute seem like the most becoming profession."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Dan managed despite his own tipsy daze.

"And she's perfect for him," Blair continued, ignoring Dan's feeble attempt at empathy. "She lets him lie to himself about who he really is. And he's doing just that by _once again_ going under the guise of 'Henry Prince' and wearing Dan Humphrey clothes—can't he at least have the decency to be more original?"

Dan's eyes darted back at the photo on his laptop screen. Even he could not miss the way Eva's hand was placed affectionately on Chuck's or the way his eyes sparkled against the dark, scruffy haze of his appearance. But what struck Dan the most was how uncharacteristically disheveled and void of his emblematically dapper and flamboyant get-up Chuck was on the photo. There he was, wearing nothing but the simplest of clothes, looking like a completely different person.

When Dan's eyes left the screen, he met Blair's waiting gaze.

"Blair, I know you're hurting, but—"

"I hope he stays in Paris this time," She blurted out resolutely. "Bass Industries doesn't need an unreliable figure, and you know what? Neither do I. I'm officially, painstakingly over Chuck Bass." With that, she downed the rest of her drink in one final, meaningful gulp.

"Blair...look, you're just drunk. We're both drunk," Dan stammered.

"I am _not_ drunk."

He shot her a pointed look. "The fact that you've been drinking cheap tequila from a mug for the past hour should be an indication."

When she finally took in her appearance—her hair being in disarray and her charmeuse skirt suffering the toll of not one but several tequila stains—Blair gasped. "Oh God, you're right." Then, from under her eyelashes, she shot Dan an accusatory glare. "You're a h-horrible influence on me, Humphrey. Next thing I know, I'll start wearing flannel and jeans."

Dan's face instantly relaxed. He was relieved that the subject had changed to a topic he knew could very well lift her spirits. "Blair Waldorf in jeans. The horror!"

"I prefer wearing much more elaborate clothing—skirts and dresses, hats, and gloves," She said dreamily.

"You _do_ have a taste for the elaborate," He said with a smirk. "Your dating history alone includes a Vanderbilt and an English Lord. I mean, it's one thing to wear a frilly dress but to date one is a whole different story."

"That's some interesting commentary coming from someone whose taste remains questionable at best," Blair challenged, as she haughtily arched her eyebrow.

"Oh, do enlighten me," Dan muttered sarcastically, but intrigued in spite of himself.

"Let's see. You dated a high school teacher, almost procreated with Georgina Sparks, had a brief fling with some celebrity, and then attempted a relationship with Vanessa Abrams. And now, you're just in this perpetually doomed relationship—_if you could even call it that_—with Serena. I may have elaborate taste in men, but at least my love life doesn't find its inspiration from a cheap soap opera plot!"

Dan stared back at her in disbelief, wondering how someone who never once willingly addressed him in high school could sum up his life with that much ease.

"Hey, at least I didn't date a guy who wears purple bowties!" He blurted out.

Blair's eyes widened. "You dated Vanessa Abrams! She wears pleather leggings!"

For a moment, they gaped at each other, affronted by what the other had just said. But as though something had clicked in their heads, the two instantaneously fell into an infectious fit of giggles.

"Touché, Waldorf. Touché," Dan said, grasping for air.

"God, we dated some really funny people, huh?" Blair mused with a goofy smile on her face.

He shot her a bemused look.

"Seriously! I'm positive everyone we know has hooked up at some point."

"Well, according to Gossip Girl, we fall under that category as well," He drawled, lazily swirling the liquid in his mug.

Blair groaned. "Oh my God. One of my minions actually had the nerve to ask me if the 'Queen B and Lonely Boy' rumors were true."

Dan rolled his eyes. "My dad's worse. He cornered me at Sunday brunch and tried to extract information from me."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I just shrugged it off and remained vague…Serena was there."

When she and Dan locked eyes in mischievous understanding, she found herself smirking with pride. "Ahh I can see I've been rubbing off on you. Bravo, Humphrey, bravo."

He let out a soft chuckle before rubbing his eyes. "You're right about Serena and I though."

Blair raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes… I wonder if we'll be anything more again," Dan said vaguely, a shadow falling across his face.

Blair let out a miserable sigh. "Well, she's just as bad as Chuck in that respect."

Somehow, the ease with which she made that comparison incensed something in Dan. He suddenly felt like he had to defend Chuck because he knew that underneath all his faults was a heartbroken shell of a man Dan could relate to. "At least Chuck's been fighting for you," he said earnestly. "He loves you and he doesn't try to hide it."

Blair narrowed her eyes at him. "He ran away, Dan. If he loves me so much, then why is he with some French bimbo as we speak?" But before Dan could open his mouth to reply, Blair squeezed her eyes shut and told him, "Look, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm officially over him now, remember?"

"Blair…"

"Don't give me that look," She bit out icily.

"What look?"

"The look that says you can see right through me. I'm not lying to myself, Dan. I'm not a coward like him. I mean it this time when I say that I don't love him."

Dan stared fixedly at her. She was lying to herself. And there was almost a sense of desperation in the way she held unto her façade that he for all his extraneousness could not overlook. Dan realized that he could tell her off right now and accuse her of lying not only to herself but also to him…and yet he couldn't. Every part of her was hurting, and if letting her spurt out lies was the only way he could alleviate some of that pain, then that was what he was going to do.

"How drunk are you right now?" He mumbled lightly.

Blair blinked up at him, aware that he was purposely changing the subject. "Enough to mourn this empty bottle of Jose Cuervo," She joked softly, but her face remained blank.

Dan's eyes softened. "C'mon, I'll help you up. You can take my bed for the night; I'll crash on the couch." With one strong tug, Blair was on her feet, barely able to balance herself. She smiled gratefully at Dan as he placed two firm hands on her waist and guided her towards the direction of his bedroom. She patiently waited at the edge of his bed, while he stuffed his pillows and spread out his duvet for her. With a small smile briefly gracing his features, he interlaced his fingers with hers and tucked her in his bed.

"Goodnight, Blair."

He gave her a final kiss on her forehead like he always did, and then turned on his heel, only to realize that Blair's hand was still clasped around his.

"Hey, Dan?" She mumbled softly, her eyes twinkling in the darkness of his room.

"Hmm?"

In one swift motion, Blair pulled him down and crashed her lips against his. Though his heart felt like it was bursting through the confines of his shirt, Dan managed to open his mouth just a little to let her tongue graze his. His mind swirled with an endless string of thoughts and an uneasy feeling of trepidation spread across his body. For a moment, he thought he would spontaneously combust then and there, not out of lust but out of something entirely different. But before his already clouded head could process any more unwanted thoughts, she suddenly broke away from him.

"What was that for?" Dan breathed out, the hairs on the back of his neck standing erect.

"Just wanted to see if Gossip Girl was right about us," She murmured expressionlessly.

"Is…is she?" He choked, beads of sweat forming across his forehead.

Blair stared at him in silence, for a moment longer than either of them wanted. Somehow their heartbeats were in sync, both pacing rapidly as time stretched before them.

She closed her eyes in defeat and with great effort she shook her head.

"Same," Dan said truthfully. They locked eyes once more under the dimness of his room. But like a match suddenly being lit, their faces simultaneously and unexpectedly creased into sheepish grins. Relief was in the air. Their friendship was still intact.

"There has to be something wrong with us," Blair murmured, before resting her head back unto his pillow.

"Maybe it's your lack of bowties," She added in amusement.

Dan's face betrayed a smirk. "Or your lack of blonde hair."

"And perhaps if your bank account was a little more bloated…"

"And your head, a lot less engorged…" They broke out into affable laughter once more.

Dan's breathing began to steady when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a tear rolling down her face. Though her smile was still intact and her chuckle, audible to the naked ear, Dan knew that deep down her heart was breaking. She may have been joking around, but he could tell just from the way her lip quivered that she wished it were Chuck sitting in front of her right now, tucking her into bed. Dan could no longer tell if she was crying with joy or sorrow—at some point, the defining line grew hazy. So he quietly walked away to let her grieve on her own, just as she would have wanted him to.

Back in his kitchen, he let out a weary sigh before finally making his decision. Slowly, he pulled out his laptop, and with a shaking hand and a thumping heart, he clicked on the Air France web site. There was no going back now.

* * *

"Hey."

Dan swirled around to find a very disheveled Blair Waldorf plopping down on one of his bar stools.

He smirked. "How's your head?"

"Throbbing," Blair muttered crankily.

"Coffee?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Dan laughed while grabbing a freshly brewed pot of coffee and pouring her a generous amount.

"So are you excited to spend the weekend in Hudson?" She asked casually, though she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the sight of his nasty backpack on the floor.

"Yeah…but, you know, it's not too late for me to reschedule with my mom. I mean, if you want me to stay—"

"Don't be ridiculous! You've been putting your visit off for weeks," Blair scolded, making a slight wave with her hand.

Dan narrowed his eyes at her in careful inspection. "So you'll be OK with me gone for the weekend?"

"Let's not forget that I've spent many a weekend back in high school deliberately avoiding you; I think I can last."

Dan let out a laugh, before edging his face close to hers and looking her straight in the eye. "So says the girl who couldn't help but steal a kiss from me last night," he murmured flirtatiously.

"Ugh. Consider that a moment of temporary insanity," Blair begged, cringing at the memory.

Grinning, Dan reached for an empty bar stool and sat next to her. "How about when we're 40 and still single we get married?"

"Well, a Brooklyn wedding _does_ sound enticing," She murmured sarcastically.

"Seriously, if Chuck and Serena don't get their act together by then, I say we just go ahead and get hitched!"

"I can see the headline on the Post now: 'Blair Cornelia Waldorf: From Park Avenue Princess to Brooklyn Bride.'"

Dan laughed out loud. "What do you say, Waldorf? Will you make me the happiest back-up man in the world?"

"I do," Blair sighed as she dramatically thrust her left hand at his chest. "And for future reference, I only wear Harry Winston."

He caught her hand with gentle ease and interlaced his own fingers with hers. "And for future reference, you're marrying someone who doesn't have an 8-figure trust fund."

Blair pouted. "You know, I'm starting to rethink this…"

"—Too late, Waldorf! You're stuck with me. Flannel shirts included."

Blair smirked. "I guess I could live. But…thanks, Dan."

He arched his eyebrow questioningly. "For the impromptu marriage proposal or for—"

"For _everything_," She interjected. "I just can't believe it took us four years, a W Magazine internship, and two clueless love interests to get where we are today."

"Wouldn't have done it any other way," He said with a wistful smile.

Dan suddenly took her in his arms and nuzzled his face against her silky curls. Blair returned his fervor by planting her cheek on the crook of his neck and relaxing it there for a moment, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"Sure you don't want me to stay?" He whispered solemnly into her ear.

"I'm sure," Blair said without so much as an ounce of doubt in her voice.

Dan smiled in understanding, as he tightened his grip on her waist.

"Now, go. You'll be late," She finally said, gently letting go of him.

Dan's throat suddenly grew tight at the loss of contact; he realized just how much he was going to miss her. It was weird. He knew that this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever get to see her, but something felt like it was ending. Like, they were finally letting go of this remote, private limbo they had set up for each other.

Blair was still holding unto his hand, but deep down, she knew she had to let him go soon.

Before she could open her mouth to break the silence, Dan closed the small gap between them and captured her lips in one final, passionate kiss.

"Still nothing?" He breathed out against her mouth.

"Nothing," Blair groaned with her eyes still shut.

He let out a sigh in feigned exasperation. "Well, you had your chance, Waldorf."

His eyes twinkling with mischief, he slowly picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"_Silence of the Lambs_ when I get back?"

"I already copied your queue," she said with a smirk. She walked over to his door and held it out for him.

Hesitantly, Dan walked out, the sad smile never leaving his face.

"Goodbye, Dan," Blair murmured, meeting his gaze one last time.

"Goodbye, Blair."


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey! While it pains me to say this, I should let you know that this is the second to the last chapter of my story! An epilogue is sort of in the works, though with my schedule now being jam-packed, it might take a little longer to complete. As always, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and a massive thanks to all who have stuck by my fic and given such awesome reviews!_

* * *

All it took was a single lie. A beautifully manufactured lie that flew him 3,628 miles away from home and to the bustling and spiraling streets of Paris, France.

Yup, after a whole year, Dan Humphrey finally made it to France. But not for the pursuit of a certain and recently available blonde, but rather for the complete opposite: he was here for only one person and that person was Chuck Bass.

In fact, just a few hours ago, Dan was absorbed in an instant-message frenzy with his sister, trying to see how far their little, white lie could go. With Jenny's urging—the hyped yet exiled mistress of Upper East Side trickery (just after Blair, of course), Dan sent his mother an e-mail, exaggerating the _tortuous_ amount of readings he had to do for his Contemporary Lit class and how _truly_ sorry he was that he couldn't make it. He even added in a few more X's and O's to his name, just to paint the perfect picture of a remorseful son.

With that out of the way, all Dan had left to do was to actually leave for France. But, of course, easier said than done.

Lying to Blair was a high-risk job fraught with so much danger. No one could ever get away with such a daunting task. Having mastered it herself, the petite brunette could smell deception from a two-mile radius. And yet somehow, to both Jenny and Dan's surprise, everything went by smoothly.

Though sweat was literally prickling down his forehead when his trip to Hudson was brought up the following morning, Blair uncharacteristically failed to pick up on his lie. In fact, she tossed it off as mere conversation—a good sign that his plan was working perfectly.

So now, here he was in Paris. Dan found himself biting his lip in excitement, as he gawked at the overwhelming expanse of architectural symmetry and culture before him. He let his mind wander to the number of distinguished writers and artists who must have been walking on the same steps his feet were gracing at that very moment. This trip may have purely been for Blair, but Dan couldn't help but take a little bit of it for himself.

All of a sudden, his phone buzzed in his pocket and consequently shook away his thoughts. Startled, Dan grabbed it and opened the blinking message.

_**Remember, FOCUS on B & C! Quit daydreaming bout some obscure, French writer ur weirdly obsessed w/ and get organized! –J**_

Dan let out a laugh as his eyes roamed Jenny's message. Although she would never admit it, he knew this was her way of redeeming herself for what she had done last year. Because despite all the enemies she made, all the schemes she had masterminded, whether she liked it or not, she was still the Jenny he grew up with.

With a proud smirk, he sent her a quick reply back, promising to concentrate on the task at hand—that is, finding the elusive Chuck Bass. He reached for his pocket again and unfurled the way-too touristy map he had picked up at Charles de Gaulle. There were so many squiggly lines and dots pointing to various places in the city; Dan simply did not know where to begin. Letting out an exasperated huff, he finally looked up from his map and tried to discern where he was.

He was just between Montmarte and Pigalle, Paris' infamous Red Light district. Dan's mouth involuntarily creased into a smirk. This place had _such _aChuck Bass feel. Its streets were notoriously seedy, but despite that, beaming couples and families meandered along the cobblestone steps, as though they were in any other district. It was paradoxical; it was deviant and heinous but against all odds, it too had a heart. So when Dan's eyes fell on the lone figure sitting leisurely at the café across the street, his not-so-discreet sunglasses perched on his nose, he simply couldn't help but let out a laugh. Sometimes, life was too easy.

"So the rumors _are_ true," Dan declared with a knowing smirk, as his feet brought him closer and closer to his table.

Chuck's mouth fell when he realized Dan Humphrey was towering over him. Yes, Dan Humphrey was in Paris, France bearing the face of a man who was extremely pleased with himself, while he, billionaire mogul Chuck Bass, was sitting all by his lonesome and pathetic self. Brusquely, he stood up from his chair and, out of habit, began unconsciously fixing his appearance. For days, he had been holed up in his suite, drinking himself to oblivion, paying no heed to the clothes on his back. But the one day he decided his skin needed some Vitamin D, the most unlikely situation unfolded, and he was staring at it at that very moment.

"What are you doing here?" Chuck demanded almost instantly, though his words came out more like a gasp.

"Funny, I should ask you the same thing," Dan droned, still trying to digest Chuck's new appearance. Gone were the platinum Cartier cufflinks, the bulky, white gold Rolex watches, the immaculately cut suits. No, the person standing in front of him had to be an imposter.

"You couldn't even bother to put a tie on? Or proper shoes?"  
"Did Bla—" Chuck's voice trailed off; he realized he couldn't say her name just yet. So instead, with gritted teeth, he asked, "Who sent you?"

"No one. It's just me," Dan replied, taking the seat next to his. Chuck eyed him skeptically but nevertheless complied, sinking back down on his own chair.

Smirking at his reluctance, Dan continued, "In fact, you should be flattered. I squandered the remnants of my birthday money just to book a flight to Paris, France for…_Chuck Bass_."

"Well, perhaps you can get back on that flight and leave me alone."

"No can do. Booked a one-way ticket. Plus, why go commercial, when I know someone with a private jet?"

"Humphrey, I have no patience—"

"Well, neither does Blair."

Chuck flinched at the mention of her name. "How…how is she?"

"Oh, so now you care?"

Wincing, Chuck decided to ignore his jibe. After all, he did deserve it. With hesitation, he doled out the excuse that was just at the tip of his tongue: "I tried calling…"

"You know," Dan began, as he inhaled sharply, "I've watched you make a fool of yourself for the last four years, but this probably has to be the most pathetic thing you've done. Granted, you sexually assaulted my sister…_twice_, criticized my upbringing, and never once made me feel welcome—"

"Get to the point, Humphrey."

"But your penchant for running away? Yeah, that's something I can't quite forgive, especially since it involves hurting Blair."

"This is really none of your business," Chuck muttered under his breath.

Dan narrowed his eyes at him. "Actually, it is. I love Blair—_No_, not in that way," He quickly corrected himself, noticing Chuck's face darken. "Contrary to what everyone seems to believe, Blair and I aren't in that type of relationship. She's my friend—a good friend. So stop hurting her and come home."

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he were back at his suite right now with an uncapped bottle of scotch in his hand. "There's no point. She's never going to forgive me," He said painfully, as if his words were knives piercing his heart.

Dan let out a heavy sigh. He looked away for a moment, trying to debate on what he could possibly say to the brooding figure across from him.

"Chuck, I haven't forgiven you for what you did to Jenny…but I still force myself to eat waffles with you every Sunday brunch. Forgiveness isn't something you can guarantee, and neither does it ever come about the way you want it to…but that doesn't mean it'll never happen. Blair…she hates you. Like _really_ hates you. You can quote me on that. Just the mention of your name makes her blood boil…but that doesn't mean she wants you out of her life. It doesn't mean that one day she's not going to wake up and make the stupid mistake of forgiving you."

Chuck's breath suddenly hitched in his throat.

Taking his silence as a "yes," Dan rose to his feet. "So let's go! Pack up! Get the Bass jet ready."

"I can't…"

"Why the hell not, Chuck?" Dan exclaimed in exasperation.

"_Because_," He muttered. "Because it's hopeless. It's all fucking hopeless." His head flashed with images of his father, Russell, Raina, and briefly even Eva. No, he couldn't possibly go home. He had to distance himself as far as possible from his old life and make it easier for everyone to forget him and all the destruction he left in his wake.

Fraught with emotion, Chuck abruptly stood up, causing his chair to fall over in the process. Without so much as a goodbye, he swiftly left the table and walked towards the bustling crowds of tourists.

Now by himself, Dan scrunched his face in confusion. _What does he mean, "it's all hopeless?" _Chuck may have been a masochist at heart, but when it came to pursuing Blair, rain, sleet or snow, he always managed to pull through. There must be more to the story for him to act this way, Dan thought. His eyes quickly found Chuck's retreating figure in the crowd. Without another thought, he ran up to him and took a fistful of his sleeve.

"What's going on?" Dan panted, his grip tightening on Chuck's arm.

Unmoved by his gesture, Chuck simply swatted his hand away. "I'll call for the Bass jet to bring you back. Other than that, this is good-bye Dan."

"Hey, wait. Whatever's going on with you, at least remember that…she still loves you."

Chuck immediately stopped in his tracks. With his back towards Dan, he let his face briefly betray the terrible grief that had been threatening to spill out of him for days. But in a moment's breath, those feelings were wiped away, and Chuck found himself digging deep for the words he had once used to wipe off any trace of Blair from his system: "Well, that's too bad."

This time, as Chuck walked further and further away, Dan didn't follow him.

* * *

"Serena! Hey!"

"Dan?" She exclaimed in surprise. Serena barely had the chance to see who was calling before she hastily pressed "Answer" on her cell phone, so she was wholly caught off guard when Dan, the guy she may or may not have been having feelings for, was just on the other line. "Er, hi…what's up?"

Dan let out a nervous cough. "Uhh…_not much_."

"Right…um, well, Blair said you're in Hudson? How's Jenny? Your…mom?" Serena asked, trying to tread away from the blanket of awkwardness that seemed to hover over their conversations lately.

"Truthfully? I have no idea. I'm not exactly in Hudson..."

"OK, Dan, you're starting to freak me out."

"_I'm_ freaking myself out," he confessed in barely veiled desperation.

"Where are you?" Serena asked almost instantly.

Dan bit his lip. "Paris, France…"

"WHAT? Dan, what are you doing there?"

"Long story, but the reason why I'm calling you is because…well, I recall you still owe me a favor—for getting Blair the internship and all?"

Serena scrunched her face in confusion. "Yes, I do but…Dan, what, why and how are you in Paris right now?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm trying to convince Chuck to come home. For Blair."

Serena instantly felt herself soften, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Dan…that's sweet. Insanely stupid, but…sweet."

Dan felt relief wash over him. He always loved the sound of her voice—it made the predicament he currently found himself in just a little bit more bearable.

"Any luck at least?" She asked, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Nope. He's too tortured and broody to actually cooperate. So now I'm…sort of stuck here…in Paris with nothing but an extra shirt, a toothbrush and a couple of Euros."

"Oh my God, rookie mistake. Everyone knows reuniting two stubborn people requires actual preparation!" Serena squealed in laughter.

A sheepish smile spread across his face. "I know, I know. Just help me already! I haven't slept in ten hours and Chuck might as well be the next Houdini for all I know!"

When Serena let out another chuckle, Dan swore it was his utter kryptonite, so with great effort, he changed the subject: "How's Blair at least?"

Serena let out a weary sigh, as her eyes wandered over to Blair's shut door. "She's still locked up in her room."

"Well, if we want World War III to reach an armistice, you'll have to convince her to come here."

"Bring Blair to Paris? Dan, she can't even watch 'Funny Face' without screaming profanities at the TV screen!"

"There has to be a reason for her to come here. You think she'd want to visit her parents or something?" Dan asked hopefully.

"Her parents are the last people she'd want to visit—_believe me_. All four of them are too in love; they'll only remind her of Chuck."

"So what you're telling me is that there's no one—no one in this whole city capable of enticing her to come over?"

"Actually…" Serena whispered, as an idea popped up in her head. She stealthily walked across her room and closed the bathroom door that connected her room to Blair's. "There might be one person."

"Great, who is it?"

Serena broke out into a mischievous grin. "A certain Grimaldi Prince."

* * *

"Humphrey," Chuck muttered harshly. "It took you long enough to find me."

"It wasn't that hard actually," Dan mused, as he made his way inside Chuck's hotel suite. "All I had to do was Google the most expensive hotel in Paris and see if it were in the vicinity of a brothel."

Though he was cataclysmically pissed off inside, Chuck couldn't help but smirk.

"Got a couch I could crash on?" Dan said chirpily, as he dropped his backpack on the floor and inwardly recoiled at the stench of alcohol and cigarettes that pervaded the air.

"Absolutely not," Chuck replied stonily. His hand was still gripping the doorknob to imply that Dan was not welcome, but much to his annoyance, the Brooklynite didn't budge.

"Nice to see you too, Chuck."

"What is it going to take for you to leave?" He finally snarled, his patience wearing thin.

"What makes you think I'm only here for Blair?"

His frown still in place, Chuck managed to raise an eyebrow.

"I need to clear my head," Dan murmured vaguely. "Serena just broke up with Ben."

He narrowed his eyes at Dan, trying to register what he had just said. Although Chuck loathed everything about the person standing opposite him, the sincerity in his words struck a chord with him more than he would have liked to admit. Inhaling sharply, he knew he was powerless to do anything but acquiesce.

"One night. That's it."

"I have never felt more welcome in my life." Smirking, Dan plopped lazily on the couch. When his eyes scanned the spacious room, he realized that there were documents haphazardly strewn across the floor. "What's with all the papers?" He asked in bewilderment.

"None of you business."

Ignoring Chuck, Dan picked one up and began reading. "These are all e-mails from your uncle," he said, recognizing the name. "And who's Avery Thorpe?"

Chuck walked over to his bar and poured himself a drink. "The woman my father murdered."

"What?" Dan stammered, the paper instantly dropping to the floor.

With a cold, hard expression on his face, Chuck continued, "That article you wrote about the fire that happened in one of my father's buildings—it turns out there's more to the story."

Dan stared back at him incredulously. "Chuck, what are you talking about? I read the police statements. They didn't mention an 'Avery Thorpe.'"

"Read the paper to your left. Apparently my father had been involved with the Thorpe's from the very beginning," Chuck muttered darkly, as his hands involuntarily shook.

"Wait, is this why you ran away?" Dan demanded, as he walked over to Chuck and grabbed the glass from his hand. "You think your father would really have done this?"

Glaring at him icily, Chuck snatched his glass back and downed the rest of it in one sloppy gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and muttered, "The evidence speaks for itself. Russell was his partner. When one of their business deals went sour, my father all but left him. It's because of him that the Thorpe's filed for bankruptcy. He's the reason why Avery even showed up at his building site in the first place, begging him to help her family. And he couldn't even come clean about her death. She was just another casualty to securing his legacy."

Dan gaped at him in disbelief. "Yes, Chuck, _a_ccording to your seedy uncle! You can't just base this whole thing on what Thorpe and Jack said! At least call one of your henchmen, PI's, whomever!"

"No one else can know about what my father did!" Chuck barked back. "The last thing I need is for the authorities to be alerted."

Sighing heavily, Dan willed himself to calm down. "Chuck, you know more than anyone that Jack's bad news."

"Bad news or good news, he's going to tell me everything I need to know tonight," he drawled, turning his gaze away.

"You're meeting him?" Dan demanded angrily.

When he didn't reply, Dan lost all his inhibition and forcefully shoved him against the wall, hoping to stir him from whatever zombie-like daze he was in. "He broke you and Blair! He assaulted Lily! He's not your family, Chuck. _They_ are, and all Jack has done is hurt them!"

Grimacing, Chuck pushed Dan's arm away and yelled back, "Get out of my way, Humphrey!"

But Dan didn't budge. He remained firmly at his place and fixed his eyes at Chuck's. "Even if your father really did something like this, even if he really is this coldblooded person you're making him out to be…don't you think it's a little suspicious that right after telling you all this, Russell decides to increase his bid for your company the very next day?"

"What?" Chuck stammered, his feigned indifference slowly unraveling.

Glowering at him, Dan let go of Chuck's collar and slowly moved away. "I read it on the newspaper yesterday. Russell Thorpe doubled his offer. And I thought you should know, before you trust him or anyone else involved."

Without saying anything, Chuck walked over to his briefcase and turned on his Blackberry. Dan took his vacant stare and the way his face failed to bear any trace of even the faintest of emotions as something of stunned silence. Either way, he knew his words had finally gotten through to him. But more importantly, Dan knew that in the weird, hazy depths of Chuck Bass's mind, a plan was being formulated.

"Andrew, I need a favor."

* * *

"Serena!" Blair called out, as she animatedly burst into Serena's room, one hand clutching her Blackberry and the other, gripping several hangers of clothes.

Worry instantly flashed across Serena's face. "B?" She asked, as she placed her laptop down to listen to her crazed friend in earnest.  
"Pack your bags! We're going to Paris!" Blair squealed girlishly. She threw her clothes on Serena's bed and, without asking, began rifling through her closet.

"For Chuck?" Serena inquired, following after Blair in curiosity.  
Blair dropped what she was doing and shot her best friend a look of disgust. "No, God, no! He can carry on with his ridiculous, disease-ridden Euro Trip—I officially don't care! Louis, _Prince_ Louis called," She said dreamily.

Serena had to bite her lip.

"He called? That's…_random_," She remarked innocently, though a smirk was tugging dangerously at her lips.  
Taking no notice, Blair blissfully rambled on, "That's what I thought! But he went on and on about how he kept running into Manet paintings; and he's been thinking of me ever since. Can you believe that? So now he wants me to meet his parents! Of course, I would have already met them had Chuck not decided to pull another disappearing act over the summer, but that's yesterday's news. S, this is going to be so much fun!"

"I know!" Serena squealed as she pulled her best friend in for a hug. "When do we leave?"


	15. Chapter 15

_Well, this marks the final chapter of my fic. It's **ridiculously long** (an error on my part) but I hope I did the characters justice. I'll follow it up with a short epilogue later just to tie everything together, but other than that, thank you sooooo much for sticking by this! It was a lot of fun writing about Chuck and Blair's story but also making it a backdrop of sorts to Blair and Dan's. So with that, I hope you enjoy this chapter (regardless of its crazy length)!_

* * *

Both pairs of eyes, in varying shades of hazel, stared intently at the idle machine. Apprehension was in the air, as both men silently waited for any sudden movements that would spurt out the documents their hands were itching to take hold of.

"Damn it," Chuck hissed impatiently, as he raked a shaky hand through his hair.

"He said he'd fax them any minute now," His calmer counterpart offered, though his own heart was beating rapidly in anticipation.

It took everything in Chuck's power not to lift his eyes away from the fax machine and send an icy glare in Dan's direction. Of all the people he knew, it was this overzealous imbecile he never once regarded as more than a nuisance, who voluntarily put his life at a standstill for him.

And for that, he was thankful.

Yes, for the first time in his life, Chuck Bass was thankful to have Dan Humphrey standing next to him, metaphorically holding his hand, as they both awaited the news that could change his life forever.

Suddenly, an all-too familiar sound chimed from their cell phones, effectively wrenching Chuck away from the privacy of his thoughts.

"Gossip Girl?"

Dan shook his head as he frowned at the message. "No. It's your P.I."

Heart pounding, Chuck snatched the phone from his hand and scanned its contents fervently.

"So she's alive?"

Chuck's shoulders hunched over as he turned away from Dan's penetrating gaze. His jaw clenched and before he could stop it, the dreadful word fell from his lips on its own volition: "No."

* * *

"Avery Thorpe really did lose her life that night," Andrew Tyler sighed. "The document you're holding now—that was the only one I could find regarding her death."

"So it was suicide," Dan uttered, though his words made his own blood curdle.

He heard another barely stifled sigh on the other end of the line. Chuck's BlackBerry was perched on the table between the two men, purposely on speakerphone, with Andrew's voice filling the tense silence that persisted.

"I managed to extract some info from two of their former employees—one was a maid and the other, a nanny—and they vaguely remembered what it was like in the Thorpe household. Day and night, they heard screams and lots of furniture breaking; in fact, they likened Avery and Russell's relationship to an abusive one."

Dan immediately glanced over at Chuck, wondering what could possibly be running through his mind. But just as he expected, Chuck's cold, expressionless look gave out nothing. So with trepidation, he marched on for the both of them. "Is that why she ended her life?" He asked Andrew nervously.

Another sigh was heard.

"Well, you also have to put into account the gravity of the attention that followed their family's bankruptcy. For a long time, Russell had been misappropriating money from Bass clientele. When Bart—your _father_," Andrew added in, because he knew that he was on speakerphone, "—found out, Russell begged him not to say anything to the authorities. So he and your father struck a deal. He would repay every dollar he embezzled even if it meant having the banks foreclose his properties in New York and Long Island and in return, Bart wouldn't say a word. But by the time your father had managed to wipe off any traces of Russell's embezzlement, word suddenly broke about it among their peers and, I suppose, everyone else who mattered in New York. Since there was no evidence though, the only thing the board could do was to strip Russell of his position and excommunicate him entirely."

When Dan looked up from the phone, he found Chuck staring out the window. He could tell he was having a hard time trying to register all this information. And this fact alone had caught Dan wholly off guard, because for as long as he had known him, he never fathomed Chuck's life to be so complicated. Upon learning who he was and what he had done to Jenny back in their junior year, he quickly wrote him off as another spoiled WASP who sought his immense wealth as justification for his scathing, pompous disposition towards the world. But seeing Chuck now as he tried to digest all this information being thrown at his face, Dan realized that every notion he had once held about the man sitting beside him was truly nothing but mere assumption—a hasty conclusion, an unfair portrayal of a man scorned. Suddenly, Dan felt an unnerving feeling at the pit of his stomach. It was guilt, he realized in agony. For the last few months, Chuck had been grappling with so many things: an identity crisis, his surging business, and the vultures who circled around it fervently. And when all of these were slowly eating him away, Dan only served to be the salt in his wound, never ceasing to rub his blooming friendship with the love of his life on his face.

"Hello?" Andrew's voice treaded uncertainly.

Realizing he was still on the phone, Dan cleared his throat.

"What about the fire in the building?" he asked, his face bearing all the seriousness he could muster.

"Well, on the same night Russell was fired from Bass Industries, Avery visited Bart at his building site. I can't comment on the nature of their meeting, but I do think that Jack Bass is right about her begging him for help, because she left the building shortly after, clearly distressed. You see Russell's dismissal was now far beyond Bart's control and he couldn't help the Thorpe's even if he wanted to."

Dan could already discern the flexing motions Chuck was making with his hands, though his face was still stripped of emotion.

"Approximately two hours later," Andrew continued solemnly, "when both Bart and Avery had long exited the premises, the building blew up in flames—confirming police reports about the accidental gas leak—and your father's security guard lost his life. As for Avery Thorpe…she died of an overdose at her penthouse apartment."

"Overdose," Dan repeated quietly to no one in particular, his body experiencing a foreign numbness.

"Yes. She was verbally and physically abused by her husband for so many years that by the time he lost his job, both had probably reached their boiling points. So I assume, to ward off any more negative attention, Russell kept her suicide hidden, which explains why he and his daughter Raina, an infant at the time, left just mere days after Avery's death and relocated to Chicago, where he later established Thorpe Enterprises."

A long silence passed, until to Dan's surprise, Chuck spoke up. "My father…he had nothing to do with this. Any of this."

"Nothing," Andrew said seriously.

Another silence unfolded, giving Dan an inkling that Chuck no longer had any desire to continue. Instead, he sat still, calm as ever and seemingly unaffected by the gravity of the news. So with slight hesitation, Dan took the bait, "And how does this go back to Jack exactly?"

Andrew cleared his throat. "Well, four months ago, Jack Bass was spotted at a bar in Chicago with Russell Thorpe. Russell's name was also listed numerous times in Jack's call log for nearly a year now. I don't want to make any conclusions here and there, but if you want my honest opinion, given recent events, I doubt they're up to any good."

Suddenly understanding everything, Chuck stood up and grabbed the phone from the table. "Thank you, Andrew."

"I'm always at your service. Have a good day."

* * *

"Louis!" Blair greeted, displaying the brightest smile in her arsenal. She quickly unlinked her arm from Serena's and strode into the Prince's open arms.

"Bon jour, Blair," He whispered cheerfully into her ear, before gently kissing her cheek. "It has been too long, but as always you look _trés exquis_."

"_Merci_," She murmured coyly, before extracting herself from his embrace just in time for him to greet Serena.

While the two exchanged the customary kiss on each cheek, Blair took in the wealth of her surroundings. It had only been a scant number of months since the last time she had been here, dividing her time between reading snippets of Colette under the Parisian sun and dawdling through the Musée d'Orsay. But now, the sun was gone and tourist numbers had dwindled dramatically—save for the few, like her, who couldn't possibly tear themselves away from Paris for too long—leaving behind just the crisp, chilly November weather and the contented locals, who were glad to have their city once again bereft of fannypack-yielding tourists. Though a fresh wave of excitement ran through her body, Blair had more in her thoughts than just the mere prospect of sipping frothy espressos in Drouant and purchasing wool-lined leather boots from Vivier.

The reality was that she simply could not escape the unsettling feeling that somewhere in these ostentatious streets of Paris, Chuck Bass was moving on with his life.

_No_, Blair silently scolded herself. _No more Chuck. _If this is the life he chose, away from her and the rest of his family and friends, then she should go right ahead and move on with her own life.

Equipped with a newfound rush of determination, she clasped her hand around Louis' and flashed him another pearly smile. But to her surprise the only response she got from him was the slight apprehension that flashed across his face. She was about to open her mouth to speak, when his expression suddenly shifted to a warm smile, putting her nerves to rest.

_He's probably just shy_, Blair told herself.

"I see you drove yourself again," She proclaimed, noticing his sleek, black convertible parked on the side of the curb. Her heart dropped as it brought back memories of their awful date, so much so that before she could even stop herself, her eyes were already surveying his attire for the same pesky, little driver's hat that had served as the first bad sign that night. It was only then that she realized the extent of her relief upon finding not a single trace of it on his body.

"Well, I know how much you like the view in the front seat," Louis joked lightly, as he gently let go of her hand to load their suitcases in the trunk.

When Blair sent another inviting smile in his direction, to her dismay, he quickly looked the other way and appeared to be suddenly absorbed in the functions of his windshield.

"Is it just me or is Louis acting strangely?" She whispered to her best friend, furrowing her brow in both confusion and annoyance.

Caught off guard, Serena managed to restrain at the last second the mischievous smirk that her bright pink lips were itching to betray. With great effort, she dawned her blankest look and replied, "He seems perfectly fine to me."

Before Blair could press her even further, Serena quickly climbed into the back seat, hoping to close the door on their conversation.

* * *

"Why does he want to meet here?" Dan asked perplexedly, as the rest of him drank in the impressive sight of Gare du Nord station.

"He's coming from London" was all Chuck said, before he picked up his pace and scanned the crowds. He could already sense, from the way his heart sped and the way his mind reeled, that he was powerless to the sudden influx of memories into his head. He could almost _feel_ Blair's presence in the station. Just like that, flashes of a rich, bright red overtook his mind; he saw the dark, voluptuous curls that cascaded her neck, and even then the glassiness of tears that shortly stung her eyes.

_No. Focus_, he ordered himself. He couldn't do this right now.

"Is that him?" Dan suddenly inquired, squinting his eyes at the horde of recently arrived passengers.

Chuck followed his gaze, and lo and behold, it was Jack Bass himself, standing against the crowd, an arrogant smirk etched on his face.

"That's him," Chuck confirmed through gritted teeth.

"Chuck!" Jack called chirpily, when he recognized the familiar face. "I must say you're looking rough." He feigned concern for a second as he studied Chuck's odd attire and then when he was finally just an arm's length away from his nephew, he stopped in his tracks; Chuck was not alone. He recognized the boy standing next to him and immediately blanched. "And…you're Humphrey's son right?"

Dan angrily narrowed his eyes at him, ready to lunge at him at full force, but fortunately, Chuck was there to grip his shoulder tightly and refrain him. It was as though he himself could already sense the tension in the air.

Chuckling lightly, Jack rambled on. "So what's on the agenda, nephew? I say we paint the town red, do as the Bass' do."

Then, the fake concern was back on his face, as his voice dropped. "And tomorrow, we'll talk, yeah? About everything: Bart…what I did to you last year with Blair and Elizabeth. I…I was messed up back then, Chuck. I was jealous and hurt and for that I apologize."

He extended his hand out, but the young gentlemen knew that his honeyed words and overly contrite manner only served to lull their suspicions.

"Cut the bull shit, Jack. I know you set me up."

Chuck soaked up the shock that instantly appeared on his uncle's face. The bastard at least had the decency to act surprised, he thought darkly. However, it wasn't long until the arrogant grin found its way back on Jack's mouth.

"Finally figured it out, huh?" He drawled casually, no longer holding unto any pretenses at civility.

"You were working with Russell this whole time. You knew about the fire—knew what it meant to me," Chuck sputtered out, as his chest heaved.

Jack's face remained unmoved. "The daughter was a nice touch, eh? She's a vixen, that one. She just _jumped_ at the chance to 'seduce and conquer' the great Chuck Bass. And you know what? All her hard work paid off. Russell just called to tell me that Raina's next in line for CFO."

Chuck looked away momentarily and tried desperately to hold unto his reserve. His nostrils flared as he spoke, "I get his end of the bargain, but what's yours? Why Thorpe?"

"Why not Thorpe?" Jack exclaimed with a devilish smirk. "He's the perfect pawn. He hates Bart just as much as I hate you."

"Haven't you destroyed me enough?" Chuck suddenly yelled. "Are you set on taking everything away from me?"

"No, Chuck, just the things that were never yours to begin with," Jack seethed, as he brought his face close to his nephew's in a threatening fashion.

"Well, you've lost," Chuck spat out, unaffected by his gesture. "I already sent the documents to Bass headquarters. Russell's offer will be rejected, and hell will have to freeze over _twice_ before Raina can even think of getting that position."

Though his heart was racing, Chuck managed to draw a triumphant smile. "But most importantly, _Uncle_, once the board knows what you've done, how you've managed to put to shame the company my father built with his own two hands, they'll strip you of your current post and make sure you never get a job in any part of the world Bass has stake in."

It took Jack a moment to collect himself as he drank in his nephew's words. But somehow, to both Dan and Chuck's surprise, his condescending mirth had returned.

"That's quite the speech, Chuck," Jack declared patronizingly as he clapped his hands slowly and gaudily. "You only left out the part about your so-called evidence being wholly and undeniably circumstantial."

Chuck's breath suddenly hitched in his throat.

"_Yes_, the Thorpe's will probably lose their deal and be forced to leave town, but rest assured, I will come out of this entirely unscathed. You have no proof. Just some meetings and phone calls that your P.I. hastily dug up."

"Well, I'll still tell everyone the truth!" Chuck stammered.

"Do you really think the senior board members at Bass will listen to a glorified amateur, who's half their age and has a fondness for skipping town whenever he pleases? It wouldn't be the first time after all. Face it, Chuck, you're not cut out for this. Your legacy is nothing but an elaborately gift-wrapped box of nepotism."

"You c-can't just—"

"Who's going to listen to you, huh?" Jack taunted with a cruel laugh. When Chuck didn't respond, he prodded him even more. "What—is the coward a mute too? Tell me, who's going to listen to you?"

"Actually," Dan suddenly spoke up, ignoring the way his legs trembled as both heads turned to face him. "Everyone will."

With adrenaline pumping in his blood, he pulled out the cell phone he had been using to record the whole conversation with and waved it around for both men to see. "Especially when there's credible evidence to back him up."

Chuck's face instinctively broke out into a cheeky grin, while his uncle on the other hand stared back, completely aghast.

"Y-you recorded this?" Jack demanded unsteadily, as his knuckles grew white.

"Yup," Dan replied with a satisfied smirk. "And now I'm sending it to Lily, who I'm certain will make sure that it gets the proper publicity." Without giving it any further thought, he pressed, "Send," the action sending bolts of exhilaration down his spine.

When he finally looked up from his cell phone, Dan found himself locking eyes with Chuck Bass. He saw the gratitude in them, however faint.

"You bastard!" Jack yelled, suddenly lunging at him.

But before he could even lay a hand on him, Chuck blocked his line of vision and hit him square on the jaw.

Jack stumbled unto the ground almost instantly, crying out in pain.

He was already staggering to his feet, when Chuck hovered over him and spat out, "You're done here, _Uncle_."

* * *

"How do you even drink this stuff?" Dan asked, making a face as he examined Chuck's open flask, the contents of which he had unknowingly consumed.

"I'm sorry if it doesn't meet Brooklyn standards," Chuck drawled sardonically.

"You know, I thought hanging out with Blair would thicken my skin a bit, but nope, you proved me wrong."

He and Chuck were now perched on the indoor balcony overlooking the rest of Gare du Nord, mostly to digest what had happened earlier but also partly because Chuck insisted. It had a "calm feel to it," he said.

Dan's first response was to arch his eyebrow; "calm" was the last word he would use to describe one of the busiest train stations in Western Europe, where crowds of foreigners and businessmen thronged every inch of it. But after a couple of sips from Chuck's flask, which Dan surmised was his version of saying "Thank you," he, too, slowly began to feel more at peace.

"A Humphrey-Waldorf friendship," Chuck mused expressionlessly, as he grabbed the flask from Dan's hand. "Didn't think the world would ever be ready for that. But I guess it makes sense."

Curious, Dan prompted him to continue. "What makes you say that?"

"It was bound to happen. You both love film and art, have real academic endeavors. And the _Cabbage Patch dolls_ should've been an indication back then."

Dan let out a laugh. "You know what, Chuck? You're probably the first person to say that."

Chuck smirked.

"No, seriously. My dad thought I'd gone mad; Blair's minions were pretty much shell-shocked, and Serena…" Dan suddenly broke out into a grin.

Chuck narrowed his eyes at him. "How did my sister take it?"

"She was livid," He replied, not even bothering to hide the dopey smile on his face.

"Thanks to Blair's scheming, I presume?" Chuck asked, a small smile akin to nostalgia grazing his lips.

Dan nodded somberly, realizing that this was the first time all evening that he'd seen Chuck Bass let out a genuine smile. "You really know her, huh?" He asked him quietly.

Chuck studied Dan's face for a moment. After a long pause, his gaze settled on the open flask in his hand as if it were the source of all his answers. "I know her better than I know myself," he said vacantly, before swilling down a healthy gulp.

Shaking his head, Dan turned his eyes back to the distance. He'd never understand those two, he said to himself.

Sighing, he decided to continue, "Well, now that we've put to rest your pathological liar for an uncle, all we have to do now is patch things up with you and Blair."

Chuck's mood immediately darkened. "Just like that I remember exactly why I hate you."

"You _love_ her. And she, against her better judgment, loves you. It's so simple. You two just decide to cloud everything with drama and schemes and…on occasion my _sister_," Dan added in, unable to help himself.

"Humphrey," Chuck warned, throwing in an icy glare for good measure. "I gave you an invitation to _drink_ not to talk."

But midway through his response, an idea emerged in Dan's head. Excited, he started rifling through his pocket. "Hold that thought." He reached for his wallet and, with giddy excitement, unfolded two wrinkled slips of paper. "Here, take these."

"'Joseph Beuys Guggenheim exhibit,'" Chuck read aloud, furrowing his brow at the two tickets that were haphazardly deposited in his palm. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"It's one of the exhibits Blair and I are set on attending next week," Dan explained chirpily, "I think you should take her instead. It's simple, easy, casual. Not at all along the lines of your weird 'Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck' vibe—which, _frankly_, gets you two nowhere these days. I figure you could put these tickets to better use."

"You seriously think me taking Blair to an art exhibit would magically make everything better?" Chuck countered in a deadpan tone.

"No, but it's a good start. And it's the best advice I got, so take it or leave it."

Strange as the idea was, Chuck found himself conceding, because whether he openly admitted it or not, Dan was right. The only determinate thing left in his relationship with Blair was toxicity, and all his attempts to bring things back as to how they were before had failed thus far.

Suddenly, as if he were deliberately in the midst of conjuring good memories—perhaps out of a sudden need to balance out the unpleasant ones that were currently occupying his thoughts—his mind drifted back to their brief moment at the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was simple, easy, casual. He remembered laughing for the first time in a long time. He remembered the way her lips curved into a goofy smile and the shrill in her voice as she accused him of destroying her skirt back in sixth grade. Then, just as they were settling back into their usual exchange of banter, reality reared its ugly head, and soon, he and Blair were jostled back to their muddled mess.

It was at that point when Chuck's memory ended, his mood suddenly darkening all over again.

With only a terse nod as his response, he silently stuffed the two tickets in his pocket and focused his gaze back at the distance. Dan raised his eyebrow, curious as to his sudden mood shift. But before he could prod the brooding figure, his phone silently vibrated in his pocket. In a clandestine fashion, he tilted his body away and tried to read the text, hoping not to catch Chuck's attention. His eyes immediately widened when he reached the end of the message.

"OK, I'm just going to go the, er, _toilette_. I'll be right back," Dan said uneasily, as he strode away without so much as another word.

* * *

Blair let out a sigh of exhaustion.

Immediately after landing, she and Serena were thrust with a long list of things to do.

For one thing, Blair had to drop by Eleanor Waldorf's atelier earlier that afternoon, partly to say "hello" but mostly to assure her mother that her impromptu trip to Paris was not in any way a result of "a mid-life crisis." Then, if that wasn't harrowing enough, Cyrus came along and insisted that she and Serena join him for some coffee. What was supposed to be a light and easy caffeine fix turned out to be a long, torturous ride to some obscure, dingy part of town that Cyrus swore with all his life was home to the best French roast he "ever had." With only a few hours left to prepare for Louis' dinner plans that evening, the two were forced to drive back all the way to the other side of the city just to make it in time for their dress fittings with Eleanor.

So now, with clasped hands, giddy smiles, and two couture gowns—a coral, Grecian number for Serena and a dark velvet gown with heavy floral embroidery for Blair—the two found themselves comfortably wedged in a town car with Louis, who, too, was aptly dressed for the occasion. After all, this wasn't any other gala; the crème de la crème of France, so to speak, were to be in attendance, from French diplomats and President Sarkozy to members of Europe's oldest royal families. Louis promised Blair all of these things, including an introduction to his mother, Princess Sophia Grimaldi herself.

Now and then, however, as Louis would shoot _excessively_ comforting glances in her direction, Blair couldn't help but be overcome with a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Like he knew something she didn't.

Similarly, Serena would squeeze her hand from time to time and give her that _look_, which was an odd mixture of sheepishness and supportiveness. Whatever it was, it filled Blair's stomach with even more knots and twists.

But before she could further scrutinize their odd behaviors, the car came to a slightly screeching halt. And since she was wedged between Louis and her best friend, she had to crane her neck towards the window to see where they were.

Blair's mouth instantly fell.

There was no red carpet, no flashing cameras, no limos depositing well-dressed men and women.

Instead, there were honking cars, drifting backpackers, and businessmen whizzing past crowds.

She was still gaping, as Louis opened the door and helped her out of the car. She was now standing across from the entrance of Gare du Nord station, a place she was positive she would never visit again. In an instant, memories flooded her head, one by one replicating the night she had first stopped Chuck from running away.

"What are we doing here?" She demanded breathlessly. She looked from Serena to Louis and then back again at the old building.

"Last summer, you told me you were running away from your real life back in New York," Louis said with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, Blair, I think it is time you stop running. The man Serena spoke of, he is in that train station as we speak."

"I can't believe you. Is that why you invited me here? Serena, you—"

"Yes, me. And Dan too. He's inside with Chuck," Serena said with an encouraging smile.

"Dan's in Paris?" The brunette exclaimed in surprise.

"I _am_."

Immediately, all three faces turned towards the figure standing behind them.

"You! You're supposed to be in Hudson!" Blair cried disbelievingly, pointing a fierce finger at his direction.

"I may have gotten a little sidetracked," Dan joked, as he walked over to shake Louis' hand and give Serena a one-arm hug.

"Look, I don't know what you people are up to but this is _not_ funny!" Blair declared, purposely interrupting their sudden display of camaraderie.

Serena smiled faintly. "Chuck doesn't know you're here."

"What do I care? I'm not going in there, S. It was his decision to run away. He doesn't want my help. And he's hurt me way too many times…"

"We know," Dan said solemnly as he walked over to grip her shoulders reassuringly. "There's no excuse for the things he did to you. He's reckless. He's a coward. He runs away and doesn't think about the repercussions. But Blair…you're running away too. You've been running away from what your heart's been telling you this whole time."

Then, his face softened when he noticed her eyes tear up. "You can find every reason not to walk in that station. You can point out all his flaws and say that he'll never change…but we both know that the real Blair Waldorf, the woman who never cowers away from anything—that Blair Waldorf would strut in that station with her head held so high that everything else was made beneath her."

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Jolted out of his reverie, Chuck immediately went still. It took everything in his power to turn around and face the source of the thunderous voice, but the moment he did, he thought his heart would explode.

She was here.

Wearing the most elaborate and intricate garment and the most infuriated expression, Blair Waldorf was actually here, standing before him, in Paris, France.

"Blair," He breathed out in surprise.

This was no dream. She was here in the flesh, looking more beautiful than he remembered. Suddenly, Chuck began unconsciously closing the gap between them, utterly helpless to his sudden desire to feel her in his arms.

But before he could come any closer, she held her hand out to stop him.

"Do you have _any_ idea how embarrassing it is to be duped by Humphrey and Sunshine Barbie over there into going to this stupid country just to make _you_ see the light?" She barked out.

"Blair, I…"

"—Or how crazy it's been back home, with Lily and your stupid company being in uproar, and Gossip Girl and the rest of Manhattan thinking that you had somehow fallen off the map?"

"Look, I can explain—"

"No, the only thing you'll be doing is getting on the next flight home! So pack your belongings, call your blonde _femme légère_—I don't care! Just go home, Chuck!"

"Now wait a second!" Chuck shouted desperately. He had forgotten just how stubborn she could be. "If you're referring to Eva, there _is_ no Eva! It would be an understatement to say that I messed up, but whichever Gossip Girl post you got your information from, none of it's true. I didn't come here for Eva. We just ran into each other…She's _engaged_, Blair."

"And I'm sure you're now in mourning—"

"No!" Chuck exclaimed, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, she's going to marry some guy—some guy I don't even know, which further confirms that I know nothing about her, that, this whole time, she's been moving on with her life, completely unbeknown to me. She has a happy life ahead of her, Blair…and for once I'm going to let myself believe that I do, too."

She stared pointedly at him for a moment, and then brought her gaze to the floor. "So why'd you come here then?" She muttered quietly, deciding then and there to trust him.

Chuck let out a relieved sigh. "To be perfectly honest, I'm still asking myself that question. I could've gone elsewhere. I could've made sure that no one would find me. But I don't know; maybe a part of me wanted to be found this time."

"Yes, because you're a total masochist, and I have a lot of Air Miles," Blair pointed out.

Chuck laughed. "So are you going to add this to the list then?"

"What list?"

"The list of Chuck Bass' fuck-ups."

Almost immediately did she break out into a grin, "Please, I ran out of space on that thing a long time ago!" Then from under her eyelashes, she jokingly chided, "Selling me for a hotel took quite a few spaces."

Chuck burst into laughter, unable to stop himself. He knew it was awful and _way_ too soon to laugh about, but he couldn't help himself. Blair, too, recognized the dark, twisted humor in her words, as she began to echo his laughter.

Her body grew warm at his smile. She always loved it when he smiled. He rarely did as it was, but when he did, she was sure it was for her and only for her.

When their laughter died off, she nervously bit her lip.

"But, seriously, Chuck. You should go home. Everyone's worried about you. Bass Industries is—"

"_Safe_. My company's safe…and I suppose I have Dan to thank for all that," Chuck said, visibly uncomfortable. Thanking Humphrey was still entirely too new to him.

Blair's eyes twinkled in amused understanding. "He's a good friend. I may hate him _tremendously_ right now, but he's a good friend."

Chuck let out a small smirk. "Who would've thought Humdrum Humphrey to be so clever?"

"And Serena too!" Blair declared disbelievingly. "They're both outside, probably reveling in the afterglow of a well thought-out scheme."

They exchanged smirks for a moment, both grateful that any traces of ire and hostility from before were long gone.

Then, as though he couldn't hold it any longer, Chuck let out a sigh and stared intently into her eyes, momentarily getting lost in the sea of brown.

"Blair, I know what you said before…but if there's any chance at all, if you've had a change of heart…will you ever find it in you to forgive me?"

Blair's mouth fell and her heart began racing again. There was so much sincerity and trepidation in his eyes that for a moment, both feared what she would say. Quietly, she murmured, "I don't know." Because she knew she had to be honest with him—that after running away from her feelings for so long, she knew she had to finally own up to herself.

When Chuck took in her words, he felt the same wave of grief crashing over him. His gaze fell to the ground and all he could do was curse at himself. How could he possibly think that she'd forgive him just like that? He didn't deserve her forgiveness; he didn't deserve any part of her. He began to breathe heavily, when he felt her hand enclose against his in a firm grip.

Instantly, his back grew rigid, as he stared speechlessly at their clasped hands. When he finally looked up, he saw Blair's eyes twinkling in mischief.

"But…we have time," She said vaguely, the hint of a smile capturing her lips.

Chuck's face immediately softened.

"Well, _during_ that time," He murmured breathlessly, as he involuntarily traced circles on her palm. "Do you mind accompanying me to an exhibit at the Guggenheim this Wednesday?"

"At a what?" Blair asked in a confused tone.

Her eyes widened as he extracted two crumpled pieces of paper from his pocket and placed it on her open palm.

Sure enough, they were tickets to a Guggenheim exhibit—to the Joseph Beuys exhibit to be specific. She furrowed her brow as she looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"I know you've been wanting to go," was all he said, his eyes glimmering under the dim light of the station.

"Yes…with Dan. He already bought the tickets," She said slowly.

A cross look briefly flashed across his face. He was getting mighty tired of all this "Humphrey" business. "Well, maybe you could go with me instead," he said a little sulkily.

Blair's mouth fell in shock. "You, _Chuck Bass, _want to go to a Joseph Beuys exhibit?"

Almost as if it were a reflex, Chuck's defensive side switched on. "Yes, is that so hard to believe?"

"Let me get this straight," Blair proclaimed, as she pulled away from him. "You're saying that _Chuck Bass_, the person who, in the third grade, boasted about going to the Louvre because he got to see the topless Venus de Milo up close, is actually serious about attending a German artist's exhibit this Wednesday?"

Chuck gaped at her, completely affronted. "First of all, I was eight at the time. And second, I don't know whether or not your Ivy-League Art History class has somehow done the impossible and made you even more of an art snob than you already are, or if perhaps you've just been spending far too much time with Brooklyn, but I'll have you know that _I_ happen to like Joseph Beuys."

"Oh, really?" Blair challenged.

"Yes, _really_," Chuck snapped indignantly. "He's one of the world's most influential pedagogues of art. He…he showed art's potential to transform society. And for that, I have nothing but the utmost respect for his work and just generally can't wait to see it in person."

Blair roared with laughter. "Oh my God, stop! You're being ridiculous! Go back to 'Normal Chuck!'"

But the seriousness remained on his face.

"No, Blair, Dan's right," He protested through gritted teeth, "You deserve to be with a person who shares the same interests as you. If it's art and history that you want to base a relationship on, then I'll do my research. I'll go to exhibits with you, watch documentaries about French orangutans—I'll do whatever you want, just as long as I get to be the one to do them with you!"

The ardor in his words hung in the air. She was bereft of speech, and so was he. But just when he thought all hope was lost, she stepped closer to him with an inexplicable mixture of warmth and tenderness in her eyes. He held his breath, as she cupped his cheeks and positioned her face close to his, to the point that he could feel her breath on his skin. He closed his eyes momentarily to revel in her touch, when suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt her nails dig into his cheeks. She didn't give him a second to open his eyes, when she hurled an unexpected blow to his shin, courtesy of the satin Manolo on her foot.

Instinctively, Chuck let out a yelp, as spasms of pain throbbed down his leg. His masculine bravado was the last thing on his mind as he reached down and clutched unto his now bruised shin, letting out a string of curses that echoed throughout the station.

"What was that for?" He hissed sharply.

Impervious to the ire in his tone, Blair batted her eyelashes innocently. But as he noticed the overly sweet, dimpled smile on her face, Chuck had a sneaking suspicion that she was enjoying every wince and contortion of pain he let out.

"_That_ was for being a complete idiot," She declared haughtily. "I deserve only the best, Chuck. And judging by the way you've practically trashed your closet"—Her eyes gave his attire a scathing once-over—"and used my love for modern German art in a half-assed attempt to one-up Cabbage Patch, I can see that all you've done is pretend to be someone you're clearly not."

Blair proceeded to fold her arms in annoyance.

"Don't you see that I want you completely as you are?" She asked incredulously, causing his eyes to widen. "I don't want Henry Prince or another Dan Humphrey. As crazy as it sounds, I don't event want a Grimaldi on my arm!"

"A Grimaldi?" He asked in perplexity.

"—The point _is_, Chuck…I want you. All of you and only you. If you have at least one shred of respect for me, you'd stick to being the man I fell in love with in that limo four years ago—nothing more, nothing less."

Heart racing, she paused for a moment and sighed.

"So…_no_, I don't want you to accompany me to the Joseph Beuys' exhibit on Wednesday. I don't want you to sit through documentaries about French orangutans with me either."

Gently, Blair took him by the hand and let her gaze fall on their interlaced fingers, his large, slightly calloused hand juxtaposing the softness and daintiness of hers.

"There's only one thing that I want from of you," she murmured, her tone softening, and her lips parting ever so slightly.

"And what's that?" Chuck breathed out, because he had learned too late that he had lost his voice.

"_Kiss me, Chuck Bass_."

And that he did. In one swift motion, the remaining gap between them was lost in their tight embrace, and Chuck's hands were cupping her burning cheeks, their lips locked with a passion so strong that it reverberated across their bodies. It was the kind of kiss shared only by the Greats—so much so that Chuck and Blair were suddenly Paul and Holly kissing under the rain; so much so that suddenly, they were Gatsby and Daisy locking lips as Nick sheepishly looked the other way; suddenly, they were Rhett Butler and Scarlet O'Hara; Odysseus and Penelope, Vronsky and Anna Karenina; Dexter Haven and Tracy Lord; Heathcliff and Cathy.

And as they watched the glowing couple from the distance, their own hands intertwined, the writer in Dan and the romantic in Serena decided then and there that yes, it really was all those kisses in one.

The end.

* * *

_I'll have an epilogue on this thing by next week! Hope you guys liked the ending! :D _


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Three months later...**

"I could do this all day."

Blair let out a sigh, as she felt his teeth gently scrape the curve of her neck.

"But we can't..." She chided lightly.

"Yes, we can."

"Chuck, I have to go to work."

But that only served to make him groan even more. In an almost possessive fashion, he tightened his grip on her thighs and held her in place. "Stay. I'll buy the damn magazine. I'll buy them _all_."

He shifted his body on top of hers and dove towards her neck, the spot in particular that made her toes curl.

"Stop! I'll seriously be late!" She protested even though her legs were involuntarily spreading apart.

"We still have an hour," He replied huskily.

"But I promised Dan I'd meet up with him."

She felt his body instantly stiffen and his hands come to a halt just mid-way up her skirt.

"Please don't mention his name during foreplay," Chuck exhorted in an irked fashion.

Blair rolled her eyes, as she weaseled away from his grasp. "_Be nice_. The New Yorker is a big deal. And he needs a decent outfit for his interview."

"You really should get more recognition for your _charity_ work," Chuck drawled, visibly miffed, but still intent on slipping his hand back under her skirt.

"Dan is my _friend_, Chuck," Blair scolded, extracting both his hand from under her skirt and herself from his king-sized bed.

"And you're my girlfriend. Surely, I get more visitation rights than that nonentity."

Smirking, she padded across his bedroom to examine her appearance in the mirror. She knew for a fact that arguing with him about Humphrey was a lost cause. No matter how hard she tried or how many "surprise" get-togethers she planned (many of which ended horribly), Dan and Chuck were just never going to click.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Chuck huffed out his sudden irritation. He was trying _really_ hard to be the patient boyfriend; he even went out of his way to make small talk with Dan last Sunday brunch! But to be denied a few more minutes with his girlfriend all because that insipid outsider needed to play dress-up? Now, this was just getting ridiculous!

Aware that he was glaring at her from behind, Blair simply feigned nonchalance and began pinning her hair up. She knew that her silence would only further piss him off.

When he finally let out a loud groan and sunk back on his bed, Blair had to stop herself from laughing.

"How about we make a deal?" She began, her tone tinged with amusement.

His head immediately rose in interest.

"I'm listening," he murmured suggestively.

With an inviting smile, she sauntered towards him and wedged her body just between his knees.

Chuck's mouth creased into a smirk, when he felt her slim legs press against his inner thighs. Excited, he pulled himself up so his face was just a few inches from her chest.

"I'll get off work early tonight and drop by your office…_in that secretary outfit you like_…" She cajoled suggestively, as she traced a manicured finger along his jaw.

Judging by the way his eyes glazed over, she could already tell that his perverted mind was reeling with the mental image of her parading half-nakedly in his testosterone-filled office, her pencil skirt hanging on his lamp, and her sky-high Louboutins strewn haphazardly on his desk.

Biting her lip, she bent over just a little so their faces were just a few millimeters apart, and as he gazed intently into her eyes, she decided now was the right time to finish her thought, "_If_ you take Humphrey shopping this afternoon, that is."

Chuck's hands immediately fell from her waist. His dark hazel eyes flickered in annoyance as he pushed her off of him and growled, "Absolutely not."

Realizing she didn't play her cards right, she searched desperately for middle ground. "I'll wear my new Agent Provocateur!" She coaxed with her best smile.

But her hopeful expression was only met with an icy glare from across the room.

"As lovely as your offer is, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. Spending any length of time with Humphrey is the absolute equivalent to pulling my teeth out."

"Come on!" Blair whined. "You know you have a better hold on menswear than I do!"

"Uh-uh. No way. I'm grateful that he helped us in Paris and all, and don't say that I haven't tried to be more civil with him these past few months—"

"You've barely even acknowledged the guy!"

Chuck shot her a blank look. "That's me. Being civil."

"Oh my God!" Blair cried out exasperatingly.

"Isn't Serena an adequate best friend anyway?" He whined back, his face contorting in disgust as the mere thought of having to spend time with the Brooklynite entered his mind.

Blair let out a frustrated sigh. "All I ask is that you do this one thing for me."

A tense silence hung in the air as they glared at each other like two powerhouses in a Cold War.

"_Fine_," Chuck finally conceded. His shoulders hunched over in defeat and a brief string of curses fell from his mouth. "But you're mine for the whole week."

Blair's triumphant glow was now replaced with disbelief. "Chuck, I can't! Fashion Week's approaching—"

But before she could finish her sentence, his mouth was suddenly on hers, his fingers tunneling in her hair.

She was so startled that all her body could do was react just as fervently to his touch. And just when she was on the brink of losing it, of losing all reserve and restraint, he pulled away with a notably fresh smirk on his face.

"A deal's a deal," the smug bastard said.

Her cheeks flushed almost instantly. Angrily, she pursed her newly swollen lips and pushed him off of her. He smirked as he watched his girlfriend pick up her things and stride towards the door in a palpable huff.

"He'll be in Paul Smith on 5th. _Don't_ be late!" She yelled crossly, before slamming the door as loud as she could.

Shaking his head knowingly, all Chuck could do was let out a laugh.

* * *

Recognizing the limo pulled up at the curb, Dan jogged over, ready to hand Blair her coffee with two creams and one sugar, just the way she liked it. When the car door opened, however, his jaw nearly hit the ground.

"Er…hi, Chuck."

The dark-haired figure nodded in Dan's direction, before curtly turning away to give Arthur, his chauffeur, instructions to circle the block a few times.

"Is Blair OK?" Dan asked slowly, because he knew, for a fact, that physical illness would be the only plausible reason for her not to take the opportunity to help him with his wardrobe.

"Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?" Chuck asked grumpily, staring pointedly at the cup of coffee in his hand.

Dan awkwardly handed it to him as a small attempt at courtesy, but the only response he got from Chuck was a sharp intake of breath and a full set of gritted teeth. Stonily, Chuck turned the other way and began heading inside Paul Smith.

"Well, she was supposed to help me pick an outfit today," Dan explained, trailing behind him in perplexity.

"Slight change of plans," Chuck mumbled. He cut Dan off mid-way through another _tedious _question to gesture at the nearest saleswoman, "Hi, I have an appointment with André."

The saleswoman immediately recognized his face. "Of course, Mr. Bass, he'll be out with you in a moment."

Staring bewilderedly at the scurrying woman, Dan finally let his curiosity get the best of him. "OK, I think I'm missing something here. Why are you here exactly?"

Chuck tried not to roll his eyes, as he casually withdrew what he presumed to be Blair's coffee from the gaping man's hand and took a sip.

"Blair's somehow got the impression that we don't spend enough time together."

"And that's an issue, why?"

"My point exactly. But if you just keep your mouth shut all the way through, we'll be out of here in no time."

Chuck walked over to where André, his shopping assistant, obediently stood and cordially shook his hand.

"André, we want something tweed or herringbone for a suit, preferably a fabric that doesn't wrinkle too much, especially since we're dealing with a person who's never heard of either _tweed_ or _herringbone_ before."

"Yes, yes, of course," the overzealous man replied, as he industriously scribbled notes on his pad, turning a deaf ear to the chain of expletives Dan muttered under his breath.

"Also, for ties, I'm thinking poplin, wool, or silk even. And stick to neutrals…I don't think the public should suffer that much of an eyesore," Chuck continued to drawl.

"Wow, we should do this more often," Dan quipped sardonically from the side.

Chuck sent him another withering glare—which Dan couldn't help but notice was on a par with Blair's. "What did I just say earlier?"

Dan rolled his eyes, as he let André drag him into the nearest dressing room. "I heard you. No talking. No talking."

* * *

After being tailored, coiffed and mildly assaulted by the staff at Paul Smith for the last hour, Dan plopped down on the same chaise lounge Chuck was leisurely sitting on and let out a sigh of exhaustion. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes—Chuck smirking, and he recuperating.

"She hates that you're leaving, you know," Chuck spoke suddenly.

Dan opened his eyes and turned to face him. "Blair?"

Though Chuck's eyes were trained on the floor, the warmth in them was visible. "She says she'll be forced to socialize with the other interns now."

Dan let out a chuckle, as his mind briefly replayed memories of her first day. He remembered Chanel No. 5-stained carpets, impromptu stapler wars in the copy room, and scathing assessments of the "competition." By the end of the day, it seemed that the pool of ten interns had quickly been reduced to six.

"Fashion is her thing, not mine," Dan said fondly. "Plus, I'm sure a part of her is glad to know that she won't have to constantly save my ass from Epperley from now on."

Chuck let out a throaty laugh, which Dan shortly joined in on, despite the buzzing in his ears reminding him that this—this moment of remote friendliness between them was beyond abnormal. He still laughed though, unable to help himself.

"How about a drink?" Chuck asked.

"What?"

"The Palace isn't too far from here. What do you say?" He peered at Dan affably, before rising from the lounge and gesturing for the bill.

Dan's mouth fell slightly in disbelief. Was this really happening? He attempted to appear composed as he stood from his seat and shrugged indifferently. "As long as I don't have to drink from a flask, I'm game."

Chuck smirked, before extracting his black Amex and entrusting it with his shopping assistant.

"Hey, whoa. I can pay for the suit," Dan insisted, but his protests were only met with the slight wave of Chuck's hand.

"We both know I'll be in the receiving end of one Blair's tirades if I don't at least pay for the suit. In fact, consider this my one good deed of the year: _helping the needy_."

With that, Chuck stalked off towards the cashier, leaving behind a smirking Dan.

* * *

He placed a small, black box on the middle of the counter, and almost immediately did Dan choke on his beer. He was shocked into silence, staring at the box that sat innocently on the bar just a few inches away from its owner.

"I'm thinking of proposing to Blair."

"No!"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean…now? So soon?" Dan croaked, as he nervously tugged at his collar.

Chuck narrowed his eyes at him in almost virulent scrutiny. "Well, not right now, no, but…I figure in a couple of months." Then, he looked away just in time for his lips to involuntarily twitch into a smile. "On the night before her birthday."

"Why before her—" But Dan stopped himself. He was already waist-deep in Chuck and Blair's affairs for his own good. So instead, he shook his head and opted for another route. "Mind if I see the ring?"

Chuck simply shrugged as he languidly sipped his scotch.

"Harry Winston," Dan said with a laugh, as he peered at the gleaming rock. "Good choice."

Chuck nodded, though he couldn't help but arch his eyebrow at the grinning figure beside him.

"Piece of advice?" Dan asked easily, as he shut the box and put it on its rightful place between the two.

"If this is about another art exhibit—"

"Don't hurt her again, OK?"

A serious expression overtook Chuck's features, as he drank in the gravity of his words. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Smirking slightly, Dan rose from his seat and threw what he hoped was the right amount of money on the bar. "I should go. But if it counts for anything…you have my blessing, Chuck."

* * *

Dan left the Palace in a peaceful though entirely foreign state of happiness. He would never know when exactly he crossed that line from hating Chuck to seeing something good in him for once, but he was glad he did. _It's funny_, Dan thought with a smirk. _Friendship_.

It's as if it brews from the unlikeliest of places. He spent a good portion of his life despising everything about Blair and Chuck, and yet here he was, voluntarily going shopping with her, gladly having a drink with him, figuratively raising his glass in a toast to their future happiness.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He didn't even have to look at the Caller ID to know it was Blair. Somehow, he just knew.

"So how much do you hate me right now?" She asked chirpily, though the faint edge in her voice betrayed her nervousness.

Dan's mouth curved into a smile. "Just the right amount. But seriously, at this rate, you can conduct your own military campaign."

He heard her giggle on the other side of the phone. "Hate me or love me, at least you have nicer clothes now!"

"Yes, at the expense of my dignity and ego," Dan retorted.

"Just admit it. You _like_ Chuck!"

And that's when Dan laughed out loud, in the middle of 50th and Madison Avenue. Even though women with strollers were giving him odd looks and construction workers, scowls for foolishly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Dan didn't care.

"Hello? What's so funny?" She demanded.

_Everything_, he wanted to say. Because, as ridiculous as it was, she was right. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, a part of him _did_ like Chuck. Granted, that part probably stemmed from the dark and twisted realms of his psyche, but it was still a partiality for the man.

When Blair's voice began to tread on indignation, Dan shook his head, smiling. "Look, I have to go. But Russian Tea Room tomorrow? I'll even give you first dibs on the first VP or exec we see."

Rolling her eyes, Blair knew better than to prod the man for answers. He and Chuck were just two ends on a spectrum, destined to always clash. Sighing, she decided to let him change the subject.

"Bring your girlfriend too! With Chuck practically _chaining_ me to his bed, I've barely seen S all week."

"Wow. That's an image I didn't need," Dan deadpanned. "But sure, I'll tell her tonight. Talk to you after my interview?"

"Of course! I'll need all the details!"

He let out a laugh as he pressed his ear closer to the phone, savoring her utter cluelessness to the great things that were about to happen to her.

"Good-bye, Blair."

"Byeee!"

* * *

_And that's it! I hope you enjoyed it! I wasn't originally going to add an epilogue but, I don't know, I always thought Dan and Chuck were hilarious together. Anyway, mad thanks again to all the readers and commenters! I'm going to miss writing this fic, but I can't wait to come up with new ones as well (I already have a few ideas up my sleeve tee hee)! _

_So with that, I bid you all a cheerful adieu! :)_


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